


Triune

by Ook



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: A certain amount of PORN, Abusive Family, Calm Down Erik, Culture clash induced misunderstandings., Dubious Authorial Sanity, Dubious Consent, Dubious Repoductive Biology, Dubious World Building, Emma is Queen of everything, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Low Self Esteem, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Multi, Nervous Virgin, Threesomes, We don't like either of the Markos my precious, because they are both gits, eventually, my id let me show you it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a vaguely historical world where there are three genders- Women, Men and Bearing Men (capable of having children), the Republic of Genosha assigns a two-spouse married couple to its diplomatic offices in Westchester.</p><p>Emma Frost-Lensherr and her husband Erik Lensherr-Frost were not looking for their Third Spouse when they met Charles Xavier in the gardens of his stepfather's town house. </p><p>But Erik still thinks it must have been destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Um. So. This happened. *gestures*
> 
> I do not know what it is about a happy Christmas spent with my family in the North that causes me to go off on an epic (ish) world building spree of triune marriages, male pregnancy and plenty of low calorie, high flavour hurt comfort and sex. I'm sorry. I really _did_ mean to write more Subject E and Token Alliance. I just... couldn't.

Charles is a Bearer. That means, although he is male, he is capable of giving birth. This, as has been impressed on him his whole life, means he is unpleasing in the eyes of the Creator, an imperfect, unbalanced thing. His only hope of salvation, of pleasing the Creator (and his stepfather) is in having many strong children, preferably for a noble family or two, and in keeping quiet and staying hidden. 

He has nothing else in him that makes him useful (says his stepfather.) Bearers don't. If it weren't for the fact that many true-women are not fertile, or can only have one or two children, Bearers should be killed at birth, or as soon as they're identified. (Kurt says.) 

His mother, being a fertile true-woman, is not so unpleasing to the Creator, nor to Kurt, seeing as he married her when Charles' father died, but (Stepfather Kurt says) she has only produced a single Bearer son and a visibly mutant daughter. So she's not worth much more than her son. 

Sharon pretends he is joking as much as she can, and drinks the rest of the time. After all, she has her first husbands' settlements and her own dowries, else Kurt would have left her long ago. So how can she be worth nothing? Charles understands her pain, and tries to keep from reminding her. The curse of Charles' Bearer nature had killed his father, hadn't it?

Charles' mutant nature is easily suppressible with drugs or devices, and no one cares about what a Bearer has in their head, anyway. So Kurt says. This reassures Charles, at first, until Cain points out not only has Charles' nature become resistant to some of the drugs, but he'll have to stop taking them completely when he's actively Bearing (or before, Cain says, gleefully) and then his telepathy will come back. 

Charles doesn't dread his telepathy, precisely; but he doesn't like what happens when it emerges unexpectedly. Once or twice, they've run out of his drugs, and can't get more immediately (or Cain hides them, for a brotherly joke.) Charles hates having to do the penance when he slips like that; it's not the fasting or beatings that bother him then, but the shielded room. 

It feels so cold and dead in there, like there's no one else in the world who will ever see him again. Sometimes Cain locks the door on him, and laughs, and that's when Charles knows what being buried alive is like. But what did he expect, being a Bearer, and therefore cursed and a curse?

Charles learns his lessons; such as he's allowed, and plays with Raven, keeping her safe and quiet, as often as he can, and tries to avoid Kurt and being alone with Cain. Cain isn't blood related, and although Charles is supposed to keep pure until his dowries and so on can be settled with his Breeder by Kurt, Cain has an unhealthy fascination with his Bearer stepbrother that makes keeping himself pure a bit of an ongoing struggle, for Charles. 

Once Cain has a Wife or bearer of his own, or Charles turns eighteen, and therefore marketable, he hopes, Cain will stop trying so hard. It must be something he's done wrong, or doing wrong, that keeps Cain pursuing him, just like it's always something Charles has done that keeps Kurt punishing him.

In his seventeenth year, people start noticing him. Oh, he's been aware of the odd glance as he scuttles up a stairway, or is hustled out of a room when the Markos are entertaining guests. When he was younger, of course, Charles would never have been brought to the town house.He and Raven were kept in Westchester, out of the eye of decent folk, and they had had the whole of the country estates to play in. 

It had been sweet, almost a real home. Until a bad investment (or several) by Kurt meant the house had to be let, and most of the land sold. Now the town house is their only dwelling, and it means Charles cannot be kept completely out of sight of the world. Unfortunately. Charles likes meeting people, sometimes, so he didn't mind losing the country house quite so badly, then.

But this is different. The looks are different. Measuring. Covetous. _Hungry._ They disturb and frighten him. Charles wonders what it's all about. Cain enlightens him.  
“They know you're almost ready to be used.” he sneers, one day.

Charles doesn't know whether to rejoice or panic. Rejoice, because, even for a little while, he might get out of this house. And be in a better position to look out for Raven. Panic because it will be his duty to have children and, like as not, give them up, and it will hurt, all of it and _what if he fails_? What then? Obviously he will be more cursed than ever, in the eyes of the Creator, which is bad, but, more importantly, he'll have nothing, be nothing, now, even more than he is already.

 

Cain says that if that happens, they've got a room all ready for him, to keep him out of trouble. And he laughs and makes sure Charles understands; it's the shielded one.

*********************************

Emma Frost-Lensherr is tired of Westchester. The kingdom is dull, full of small minded traders and petty lordlings. If she and her pledged husband, Erik Lensherr-Frost were not working for the ambassador here she would never darken its doors. But he is, so she has, and really. Westchester has profoundly peculiar (not to say backwards) attitudes to those who do most of the work in producing children. 

Strange, really, given how important children are, but well. Every nation has it's little tiresome quirks. She wishes Erik had not been assigned to Westchester at this point in his career, though. For they do need to be thinking about their own children sooner rather than later, and Westchester is _not_ the place Emma would pick to be looking for a second spouse. 

The chances of finding someone bearable, let alone interesting, is low. And Emma simply refuses to go down the Westchester route, wherein she would be pretending she doesn't have the fertility problems she shares with 40% of all women, and hiding the children's true-mother in an attic or a cellar. 

It seems... tacky. Not to mention counter-productive. Emma likes children, yes. In controlled doses, or when they're old enough for verbal reasoning and perhaps a little fashion advice. But any child who relied on just her as its sole nurturing carer would be in a lot of trouble. 

_Erik_ will make a very good parent; but, he's fiercely opposed to the idea of shorting his putative children's allotment of carers. And, he's a busy, busy man. Genosha makes demands of all her sons, truly, but Erik always seeks to excel, rather than just provide the minimum. Triad marriages are more common in Genosha than many places. Emma cannot understand why.

Erik Lensherr-Frost is bored. Westchester's nobles are foolish and often ill suited to the positions in government their rank gives them, and he has to smile and lie far too much. Still, it was his own free will to enter the Diplomatic Corp, and so he has to make the best of it. Not least because Emma advised him against it, and he hates admitting that she is right, unless he absolutely has to. And now they are in, of all places, Westchester, his hopes of locating their stabilising Third Spouse are not high. Westchester doesn't really have official triune marriages, and their attitude to bearers and breeding women is, well. _breeding_ seems to describe it all very well. 

Erik will never let his children down by giving them unwilling or uncommitted parents- he only had two parents, but both of them had cared for him incredibly well. His beloved, icy Emma has much to offer children, but, like Erik, nurturing the very young (and, in Emma's case, producing them) is not their best gift. So adding a compatible minded Third Spouse to the marriage seemed like the best of all possible worlds.

As long as the spouse fitted in well with both of them, was happy in the household, and didn't mind that they'd be doing the lion's share of the bearing, other things, such as gender or looks are not important. At least, not important to Erik. Emma has no preference as to gender, but she had insisted they needed someone with presence or style, at least. 

Given Emma's gifts of the mind and his own with metal, Erik would have liked a spouse with a gift of their own. Or at least one with a tolerance of them in others. Such wistful dreams he might have shared with Emma in the blissful dark of their marriage bed are all pretty much moot, given that they're posted to Westchester for the foreseeable future. And _there_ , their chances of meeting a person who matches any of these, let alone courting them, is unlikely. 

Fertile women are locked up like something unbelievably precious, and traded from family to family like any other rare goods. Bearing men are hidden away and, so far as Erik's aware, traded like horses or dogs. Ugh. Proving one's ability to support a pair of spouses does cover financially, true, but Erik's never seen anything that comes so close to treating people as property before. He's not about to _buy_ a spouse, thank you very much. 

Emma would kill him, and he would thank her for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not unlike Genesis, this begins with a man and a woman in a garden.
> 
> No Phil Collins, though.

“Would you care to accompany me today, Dear?” Her husband's voice dripped with honey and affection and other sweetnesses. 

Emma looked up from her coffee, suspiciously. She raised a single eyebrow. Emma was not fond of detailed conversation or requests at breakfast. 

Erik sagged, slightly. “I'm to meet with a man called Marko, something about trade agreements and so on.” he explained, sadly. “You have a better head for business than I do.”

“You mean I remember all the fiddly details like transport and tax differences and you prefer to make quick decisions.” >

“Well, yes!” 

Emma considered for a moment. She had very little to do, and certainly, discussing trade could be interesting.

“Very well.” she sighed. “When is the meeting?”

*******************

Emma muttered furiously to herself, as she strolled around the elegant gardens. They seemed a little stiff and lifeless, with all the showy yearly replants rather than longer lived flowers or herbs. Emma thought them poor stuff, compared to the gardens of Genosha, but , she had to allow that Westchester was cursed with harsh frosts and long winters.

Being an island, Genosha had to endure seasons of storms every year, but ground frost was very rare. Also rare on Genosha was the belief that women and business were not a good mixture. She could not believe Kurt Marko had so flatly refused to start the trade discussion with her present. 

Of course, being a telepath, she didn't _need_ to be in the room to participate in the discussion, but still, it was the principle of the thing. Westchester's culture seemed almost solely fixed on denying the talents and rights of two thirds of it's population- women and bearing men- while unjustly elevating siring men alone.

“Primitive, unsophisticated _idiots_ ” she muttered between her teeth, and paced further down the garden, towards the vastly more interesting kitchen garden. Herbs and vegetables were bound to be more interesting that the dull, formal section.

“No, Raven, you can't eat those yet!” a young man's voice said. “They've got to be cooked, first.”

Emma pushed open a gate and saw a most attractive young man, dressed in the wide flowing trousers and tunic that was Westchester's idea of modest and plain clothing for their bearing men. He was bending over a little blue girl, attempting to prise something out of her mouth, without much success. Emma bit back a smile.

“What's she trying to eat?” she asked. The young man straightened as if he'd been struck, and turned to face her. Emma's eyes narrowed as she noted he was subtly trying to urge the little girl behind him, away from Emma's gaze.

“I- uh, turnip, ma'am.” he said, hurriedly. “I haven't even washed it.”

“I was always a devil for raw peas, if I got near our gardens at that age. My guardian could never understand it.” Emma spoke neutrally. She received an astonishingly sweet, if wary smile in response. The little girl- Raven, he'd called her- poked a now pink and blonde head out fro behind her protectors legs and gave her a solemn look. Gravely, Emma nodded back.

“Weren't you blue just now?” she asked. The young man winced, and the girl's head shot back behind him. Emma frowned, a little.

“Sorry.” Raven said, uncertainly. “I didn't-”

“Oh, no, don't apologize.” Emma smiled, warmly. “I _like_ blue.” She smiled again, and sank gently onto the nearby bench. Curiosity sharpened, Raven shuffled a bit to keep her in sight. “I'm Emma.” she continued. “My husband has a meeting with Mr Marko. Do you know him?”

“I'm Charles. The young bearing man replied little stiffly. “Mr Marko is my step father. And Raven's father.”

“And do you like the gardens?” Emma cocked her head invitingly.

“Better than lessons.” Raven said, creeping nearer to Emma. Charles kept a wary distance, but he allowed his sister within range.

“My tutor's _mean._ ” Raven said, glancing at Charles. She wrinkled her nose.

“How so?” At the back of her mind Emma could feel her husband's irritation with Marko rise. She sent him a quick burst of soothing thoughts as Raven continued to explain about the evils of her tutor; refusing to allow the girl to study the sciences and insisting on rote learning of various holy books.

“That sounds more as if your tutor is not being good at his job rather than simply being mean.” Emma said. Charles stared at her for a moment, incredulous. She smiled in response, and patted the bench next to her. Slowly, he sat down.

“Really?” said Raven, hopefully. “Can you tell him that?”

“Now, Raven, you mustn't risk-” Charles said, hurriedly.

“Risk getting a better tutor?”

Emma inquired, archly.

“Risk getting in trouble.” Charles said, firmly. 

Raven drooped. “Kurt is...” he paused “quite strict-” Emma nodded, blandly. Far be it from her to pass comment on her host's child rearing methods.

“And besides, Raven, I can teach you a lot, if you pay attention.” Charles chided her, gently and humorously. Raven made an exasperated face.

“Science?” Emma said, intrigued. Charles flushed a little.

“Some. And a little maths. The trouble is getting the right books...”

***************************************

Erik muttered to himself as he went in search of his lovely wife. His lovely, intelligent wife, who had managed to get out of the most irritating meeting Erik had endured in years, simply because she was female, and in Westchester. Marko was a conservative, hide bound, slow thinking _idiot._ Talking with him had been a pennanceHe doubted she'd regard her exclusion as anything other than the insult it was, though.

 _Emma?_ he thought loudly.

_In the gardens, sweetie._

He set off. 

Erik found his wife flirting- or something quite close to it- with a young man and a younger girl. A quick study showed the pair were far too close in age to be father and daughter, the girl beeing about eight and the man about twenty, to Erik's eye.

 _Charles Xavier is eighteen_ Emma said, silently, to him. _Marko's stepson._

“Hello, wife.” Erik said, out loud, and kissed her in greeting before straightening. “And hello...?” He trailed off, invitingly.

“I'm Raven.” the little one said. “This-” she caught at the young man's sleeve as he began to get up and back away. “Is my brother, Charles.

“I'm Erik.” Erik said, briskly, and shook Raven's hand. She grinned, shyly, and Erik awarded himself a point. He put out his hand to Charles, and found he had to step closer in order to connect- Charles had backed away, slightly. Erik smiled at Charles as the other man nervously put his hand in Erik's. He took care not to squeeze too tightly, and he won a sweet smile in response.

Erik awarded himself another point.

 _Enough of your points, Erik._ Emma said, silently. “Did you have a good meeting?  
Erik smiled and shrugged.

“As good as any first meeting, I suppose. How has yours been going?”

Emma smiled. “Quite well. We've been discussing education. And genetics. And numbers.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, as he sat down next to his wife, Erik could see Charles tensing. He wondered why the young man was so jumpy.

“Numbers?” Erik said aloud, as Emma made silent comments about Marko's child rearing habits, which seemed to match up with his business ones.

“We've been talking about, um, algebra.” Charles said, still nervous. Erik nodded.

“Do you like numbers?” he asked. Charles smiled, a little foolishly.

“Well...” He began.

The ensuing conversation was far more fun than the one he'd had with Marko.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt makes a mistake. Charles pays for it. As usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beating and violence in this chapter, pls be warned.

A harsh voice bellowed “CHARLES!”  
Charles jumped,and then, recognising his stepfather's voice, went pale. Kurt was very angry about something. And it seemed to be Charles' fault. What had he done- or not done- _now_? Hastily, he scrambled out of his room and hurried down the stairs. If Kurt was as angry as he sounded, delay would only make things worse. Thank goodness Raven with with her tutor. He prayed they'd both have the sense to stay out of sight until the storm had passed.

“Sir?” he said, politely. Kurt backhanded him into the wall.  


“Filthy, no good-” He raised his hand again, and Charles flinched.  


“Sir, please, I don't understand-” Charles gasped, breathless and dizzy with pain.

Kurt backhanded him again. Charles reeled, bewildered. Kurt grabbed him by the shirt and dragged up back up to eye height.  


“You said they had given you those _books!_ ” Kurt raved. Charles' stomach sank. Kurt could only be talking about the Lensherrs. 

Who he'd met _once._

“I- I thought they did.” Charles whispered. “Just a book or two on the subjects we-they talked about, when-”  


“Yeah.” Kurt snarled. “They admitted _that._ ” He shook Charles. “Thought they were courting you, didn't you?”

Feebly, Charles tried to shake his head. He hadn't thought that. He _hadn't_. Hoped it, maybe- they had seemed a happy couple, and gentle enough. But he would never have assumed- he'd only told Kurt because his stepfather had wanted to know who had sent him the parcel, and what was in it.  


“Godless foreign scum.” Kurt said. Charles blinked, and wondered- again- what had angered Kurt so.

“I- I'm sorry?” he said, cautiously.  


“You should be, you puling brat,” Kurt spat. “I just wasted a morning on you! Drinking coffee with that bitch, Lensherr's wife.” His mouth twisted in distaste.  


“I don't understand.” Charles said, miserably.  


“Thought they might be open to some... negotiation.” Kurt said, curtly. He began to drag Charles up the stairs he'd just come down. “Come on, slut. Penance room for _you_. Now.” He began to breathe more heavily.

Helpless, Charles walked into the shielded room. Kurt threw him down onto the hard bench, and began unfastening his belt. Charles bit his lip, and tried to steel himself for whatever happened next.  


“Thought they were stupid enough to want you, did you?” Kurt asked, a few minutes later. He regarded the pale, prone body of his stepson thoughtfully. 

The fool boy croaked out something that might have been a denial. Kurt's eyes narrowed, and he brought his belt down across Charles's narrow shoulders forcefully.  


“I did.” Kurt said, quiet quietly. “Thought I could get a concession or two, maybe. Thought you might be useful, for once.”

Charles was silent. Kurt brought the belt down again.  
“They didn't want you.” And again. “Didn't want anything to do with _you._ Or me.” 

On the fourth blow from the belt, Charles cried out. Blood was already marking his shirt.  


“Made me look like a _fool_ ” Kurt panted. And struck again. “All those uppity women, and foreigners, laughing. at. me.” He punctuated the last three words with a cut from his belt.  


“I-i'm sorry, sir.” Charles said, unsteadily. Kurt strolled to the head of the bench, and ran his fingers through Charles' hair.  


“You will be, boy. You will be,” he said. He raised the belt again.

 

**********************************

Charles blinked, stiffly. Even his eyes hurt. _Get up_. He had to get up, before Cain came back from his morning ride, and seized the opportunity to lock the door on him. Again. Groaning, he half fell, half rolled off the bench. He drew a breath, steeling himself for the painful effort standing would be.  


“Charles!” He looked up, too fast, and regretted it, as the floor dipped unhelpfully below him.  


“Raven?”  


“Did- was Kurt, was daddy angry again?” Raven whispered, her eyes filling with tears. In too much pain to talk, Charles nodded. Raven slipped further into the room, and insinuated herself under his arm, helping him stand with practised effort.

Charles winced internally, as he realised that that was another thing he had to berate himself with- a genuine sin, not the inflated nonsense Kurt usually came out with. If he wasn't here, Raven wouldn't have to know how to do that. Wouldn't have to make the painful choice between trying to please her father and help Charles, so often. Already he could see her loyalties., her affections were stronger towards her half brother than they were towards her father, something that was both improper and dangerous, if Kurt ever truly suspected it, or saw Raven as something of value to him.

“I'm sorry.” Self disgust filled him.  


“Don't be silly.” Raven said, as they began lurching towards his room. Charles was glad, at times like this, it was near the shielded room Kurt insisted he pay his penances in. It meant he could get back to the illusion of safety it offered more easily. However much he hated walking past the open door at other times, and however much the blank bare walls and stained floor haunted his dreams.

He collapsed onto his bed with a sigh of relief as well as pain. Raven tutted to herself as she examined his shirt, exactly as their old nanny had. Her mimicry was never just restricted to physical appearance, after all. There was a splashing noise, and he turned his head, wincing, too see Raven pouring water from the jug on his dresser, into the basin. Slowly she carried it over. Carefully, using his towel, she began the process of soaking Charles' shirt away from his back.  


“What was he angry about this time?”

“I don't know.” Charles said, wearily. “The Lensherrs, I think.”  


“Why did he hit you?” Raven said, bewildered.  


“He thought- he said they made him look stupid- I think he was trying to negotiate my first contract.” Charles said, rather jerkily, as Raven's ministrations continued.  


“But-” Raven said, as she helped him take off his shirt. “They were nice. They sent you those books.”  


“Yes.” Charles said, tonelessly. “But it wasn't- they weren't courting me, or anything. Apparently.”

Raven sniffed, expressively.  
“Then they are very silly. They couldn't get anyone nicer for their children.” Charles bit back his smile.  


“I don't think people really look for _nice_ in their bearers, love.” 

Raven picked up the pot of wound powder and frowned. Obediently, Charles lay down again.  


“Maybe they _should_. Most people aren't nice enough.” She began dusting the powder over Charles' back.  


“Mmm.” Charles said, neutrally.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And _why_ do you want us to go to Marko's entertainment?” Erik said, wearily. “The man's a fool."

“And _why_ do you want us to go to Marko's entertainment?” Erik said, wearily. “The man's a fool. Wouldn't even talk business with you.”  


“Charles.” Emma said, flatly, toying with her breakfast kedgeree.  


“I thought we agreed he was too young and we were going to give him a little time to grow?” Erik averted his eyes from Emma's terrible fish dish. “That's the approach you used on Marko, when he came sniffing around for bribes.” 

Emma wiped her mouth.  
“We haven't heard from him since the books arrived. Nor, my spies report, has he been seen outside of that house. I'm a little worried.”  


“Worried?” Erik said, and swallowed the last of his coffee. 

Emma sighed.

“You know Westchester looks at these things differently. I just want to be sure we haven't left Charles in a difficult position. Marko...”  


“Is a nasty minded little man. According to you, dearest.” Erik said, lightly.

Emma pushed away her plate, sharply.  
“You didn't like him either.” Her voice was quiet.  


“There's a difference between a man being a crashing idiot in business and a general hide bound bore in manner, and being... difficult to his family.” Erik said. 

Emma's eyes grew as cold as her name. 

Erik raised one hand placatingly.  
“I'm not disagreeing with you.” Emma smiled, still chilly. “If you say something's wrong, well, you're the telepath, wife. I trust you.” Her smile grew warmer. “What time does this thing begin?”

********************************************************

“Master Charles, where are the next set of can o' pees?” Charles smiled wearily at the young kitchen maid, pressed into service as another attendant on this frantic night.  


“Over there, Marie. And it's pronounced canapé.” He said, gently indicating the next tray of dainty morsels. The kitchen maid flashed him a quick conspiratorial grin. Snatching up the tray,she vanished back upstairs, where Charles was still forbidden to go until Kurt's latest snit had burnt itself out. 

He hadn't beaten Charles since the first time; which was a relief, given that the welts and bruises from then had yet to fade or heal completely. Raven had stuck with her tutor and so escaped most of Cain's gleeful exploitation of Kurt's ill temper. Charles sighed, and moved to the next tray to add the final finishing touches the cook was too busy to manage. He sighed again. His back still hurt, and he still felt a little sad about the way things had turned out. Obviously, he should not have read so much into a simple presentation of some children's textbooks. He'd thought the Lensherrs were kind when he met them; so was it so surprising they should do something kind for a little girl who wanted to learn?

“Charles.” A cool voice purred his name practically in his ear.

Charles jumped, sharply, and accidentally sprayed the little pies with far too much gravy.  
“M-mrs Lensherr.” Nervously, he dabbed at the pies with a clean cloth.  


“I came to ask you if Raven liked her books. I was surprised you weren't upstairs.” Her smile was bright. 

Charles flushed, dully.  
“Raven loved them.” he said, evasively. _Please, let her not realise he was currently forbidden to appear in public. Please._ Emma's gaze sharpened. Charles smiled weakly. He abandoned the pies and stepped towards the cold room. Emma followed him, undeterred.  


“Charles?” she said, gently. “Is everything quite alright?”

“I- I'm just fine, ma'am.” Charles faltered, backing away further. He didn't want to complain. It wasn't his place, and it wasn't as if she or her husband could do anything anyway. Kurt was allowed to discipline his dependents as he wished, after all. They hadn't meant to get him in trouble by sending him- His back hit the wall. Before he could stop himself, Charles yelped as the impact jarred his welts and bruises. 

Emma was on him in seconds.  
“Something _is_ wrong.” She said, flatly. “You've been hurt.” 

Charles couldn't look at her. It didn't seem to put her off. “Show me.” She pressed. Charles swallowed. He wheeled round, facing the wall, and lifted his shirt, intending to briefly display his back. The bruises weren't too bad, not on a quick glance. If she just believed he was in some form of disgrace... 

Emma gasped. Her hand shot out, preventing Charles from dropping his shirt back over his shame. Charles paled. Emma released his shirt, and spun the wounded young bearer to face her. 

They stared at each other, almost eye to eye, for a few moments.  
“P-please, I don't want to cause any trouble, Kurt just-” Emma laid a finger on his lips. Muted, he stared at her with growing fear.  
“Don't be frightened, Charles,” Emma tired to sound reassuring. “We just want to help.”  


“Help with what?” Charles said, puzzled. “I- I s-said, nothing's wrong.” _More wrong anyway_ , he added to himself.  


“Charles, your back shows me that _something's_ wrong.” Emma's voice sharpened.”Tell me. _Please._ ”

“I- I think Kurt didn't understand the books were for Raven.” Charles faltered, slowly. “He thought, he thought...”  


“That we were courting you?” Emma said, slowly. Charles looked away from her too sharp gaze. Emma urged him to sit, on the nearest available thing. He sank gratefully onto a barrel of pickles.  


“Something like that.” Charles said, carefully. “And, and when you weren't, he, he... Thought I must have been... behaving badly. Or something.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, awkwardly. “That's all, ma'am.” Charles tried to smile. “Just a misunderstanding, so, nothing's wrong. No one needs to know that, that I...” 

Emma cut in, crisply.  
“That you what, Charles?”

Charles faltered.  
“That I behaved badly enough to deserve-” Emma laid a hand on his arm.  


“You didn't behave badly at all, Charles.” She gestured at his back. “You did nothing wrong, you didn't deserve to be _hit_ , let alone _this_.” 

Charles began to shiver. Emma touched his shoulder, reassuringly.  


“Don;t be afraid.” she said, matter of factly. “We can get you out of this.” Charles gaped at her.  


“This” is my family, ma'am. Where would I go?” Emma's face went blank. 

Charles didn't understand what had happened. Why was she so determined to help him? What would she want in return?  


“Erik?” Emma said, aloud, confusing Charles slightly.

He craned his head round, to see where Mr Lensherr was. Emma continued talking, to thin air, apparently.  
“Get down to the kitchens. Now.” she said, sharply.  


“I don't understand.” Charles said, helplessly, again. Emma patted his arm, gently.  


“I'm a telepath. Sometimes it's easier if I speak aloud at the same time.” She said, matter of factly. “I think we'll do better with my husband actually here, though.”  


“Do better?” Charles quavered.  


“We'll get you out of _here,_ anyway.” Emma muttered, gazing around the cold room at the chilly lumps of meat and covered dishes on the shelves, fiercely.

*****************************

Erik had been trapped in the library for fully half an hour, feigning interest in a ongoing card game of complicated rules in order to avoid having to talk to Cain Marko. Cain was Kurt's blood son, from an earlier marriage, Erik thought. The son was even more irritating than his father. He sidled, he leered, he insinuated. Erk was not entirely sure what Cain was driving at. 

On the whole, he rather thought he preferred not knowing, given what the man was like, by all reputation. He greeted Emma's imperious mental summons with relief.

Smiling slightly at the card players, Erik wandered out of the library, apparently in search of something unspecified. He found his relief swiftly turned to anger as Emma rapidly relayed to him the state young Charles Xavier had been reduced to. Beaten, afraid, and claiming he deserved it.

Erik was all too afraid that he and Emma were the ones at fault, not poor Charles. After all, they were the ones who had left Charles there. Erik shook his head, and ducked onto the servant's stairs. He smiled tightly at a bewildered footman, and hurried on down the stairs.

 _We should never have left him there_ Emma said, tightly, over an image of Charles' welted back.  


_We thought it would be kinder to court him_ slowly, Erik responded. _He's only eighteen. Isn't that why we played things cooler with Marko?_  


_I think it is obvious that that has backfired._ Emma said, sadly. _My fault. I should have seen-_  


_Recriminations later, wife. Charles first._ Erik said, steadily. _How do we get him out of here without further harm to him?  
_

Diplomatically? Not easily. Emma said, reluctantly. _I think Marko would accept marriage; but would Charles-_

Erik sent her several vivid images of his opinions on diplomacy.

 _Thank you dear, that's very helpful._ Emma responded acidly. _Would..._ She trailed off, uncharacteristically. 

Erik caught his foot on a loose stair rod and cursed. How many stairs did a pile like this have, anyway?  
 _Would a marriage of convenience work?_ Emma said, eventually.  


_A genuine marriage of convenience where we both leave him alone or one that ends up like ours did?_ Erik said, faintly amused.  


_Genuine, of course_ Emma said, entirely unamused. 

_What does Charles think?_ Erik sent her, playing for a little mental space. Telepathic communications took so little time- quick as a thought was more than a metaphor- that sometimes he had to admit he had trouble keeping up with his wife.  
 _He thinks marriage of convenience is the Genoshan term for a breeding contract._ Emma said, sadly, after a pause. 

Erik could think of no adequate response to that. Really, Westchester's conventions and Kurt Marko in combination were unspeakable.  


_He says, yes, by the way._ his wife added, sourly.  


_Well, we marry him, we get him_ out _of here and then we worry about buying him a dictionary._ Erik said, as he moved past a flustered kitchen maid and to the door of the cold pantry.

“Hello, Charles.” he said aloud. Charles looked at him, his bright blue eyes full of doubt and a puzzled fear that made Erik's chest ache. He moved further into the room, slowly.  


“H-hello, sir.” Charles said, nervously, from his barrel.  


“Would you like to get married?” Erik said, cheerfully. “My wife is quite attractive, if I say so myself.” Emma rolled her eyes.  


“I- what about Kurt?” Charles was worrying at his lower lip. “And Raven? She's only eight-”  


Erik squatted on his heels in front of Charles, and took both of Charles' hands in his. Charles looked at him, startled at the gentle contact. 

“Is Kurt likely to harm Raven like he harmed you, in the next two months or so?” Erik asked, carefully. Charles looked blank. Erik gritted his teeth and glanced at his wife.  


“Is he likely to beat her as he beat you?” Emma said, simplifying things a little.  


“Oh. No, not unless she's deliberately naughty, and he only slaps her, anyway...”  


Something in the way the Lensherr's faces changed caused Charles' voice to dry up. Erik squeezed his hands, tightly. Charles found he rather liked it.

“We can help Raven, too, then. More easily if it's not at the same time.” Erik said, thoughtfully. 

Emma nodded.  


“Well, Charles?” Erik said. “It's not ideal, but... will you marry us?” Charles bit his lip. If they meant it, when they said they'd help Raven escape... if they meant it when they said they wanted to take him away from here... how could he say no?  


“Yes. Please.” he said, quietly, looking at his shoes. Charles was still on the highest dose of his telepathic dampers, but he could swear he could feel Erik and Emma's delighted grins through his scalp.  


“Excellent!” Mr Lensherr said, jovially. “Let's go and speak to Kurt Marko.” Charles shivered, partly in fear of Kurt, and partly at the sight of Mrs Lensherr's smile turning so viciously predatory.  


“Yes.” She purred, slowly. _”Lets.”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cultural misunderstandings ahoy!
> 
> Kurt does what he thinks is good business with two like minded souls.   
> Emma and Erik realise the full extent of what's necessary to rescue Charles.  
> Charles agrees to being rescued.
> 
> And this marriage of convience ends up much like the last one Emma and Erik comitted themselves to. 
> 
> *cackles herself away*

Kurt was cautiously pleased. His party was going well. The guests had all had at least one drink of the good stuff, so pretty soon it would be safe to start wheeling out the cheaper booze. A drink or two in and no one could tell the difference, however much Sharon whined. He’d be able to get a decent business deal or two out of this, and he wouldn’t have to deal with Charles or the brat. Charles was still banned from anywhere other than his room and, tonight, the kitchens, so no one would find him there and get a chance to worm any of Kurt’s business out of him. Raven was in bed, like any good girl should be; keeping herself out of trouble and out of the way, until Kurt needed her.

Sharon whined about that sometimes, saying Kurt should pay more attention, but Kurt ignored her. Sharon whined about a lot of things, and it was nothing that a bottle of wine or two couldn’t drown. Kurt adjusted his neck cloth and slipped out of the drawing room, heading for his study and his own private stash of the good stuff. Not even Cain knew about his hidden whisky store. Kurt always preferred spirits to wine, anyway. He smiled and nodded at guests as he walked, revelling in the knowledge that they were there for _him._

Him, Kurt Marko, who nobody thought would ever amount to anything; him, Kurt Marko, with the house and the fine wife (with a fine drinking problem, but, still, Sharon was a high-blood, and that’s what counted) and the fine estate (a bit smaller, now, than the one he[‘d married himself to, but that was only temporary) and with fine options for the future. Raven could be used in any number of marriage alliances, and as long as Kurt kept his hands on Charles, he’d get to administer the late, unlamented Brian Xavier’s settlements for his bearer son, _and_ get the lion’s share of any money that came in from Charles’ breeding contracts.

Yes, Kurt thought, happily, as he poured out his first whiskey. He sat down at his desk. Tonight was going to be just-  
“Marko.” A voice growled from the door. Kurt looked up, irritated, to see Lensherr, one of his least favourite (and least _useful_ ) Genoshans. He nodded, briskly.  
“Lensherr. Enjoying the party?”  
“I’m here to talk business, Marko. About Charles.” Lensherr slouched his way into the room and dropped into the chair opposite Kurt.  
“ _Business?_ You call... wasting time on Charles business?” 

Lensherr’s face tightened and Kurt felt oddly wary. Lensherr was a powerful man, physically, and he wasn’t some nobody, he was a diplomat, too.  
“Your wife seemed to think that Charles wasn’t right for you both. Too young, or something?“ Kurt said, cautiously.  
“Yes, well.” Lensherr said, stiffly. “I think there’s been a _misunderstanding._ ” Kurt fought back a grin. He loved it when other couples disagreed. Lensherr coughed.  
“In Genosha, we don’t leave the courting to the parents, you see. So we were a little… taken about by your _proposals_ … at the time.”

“At the time. Can I offer you a brandy?” Kurt said, trying to hide his glee. Business was always better if the other parties couldn’t agree with each other. And the Lensherrs, clearly in the market for their first kid or so, could afford to pay handsomely for the husband’s access to a fertile womb.  
“I never drink and talk about money at the same time.” Lensherr said again, almost tonelessly. “Are you willing to talk terms, or not?”  
“Oh, I’m willing. You don’t want your wife to hear them, though, am I right?” Kurt smiled.  
“She’s with Charles now, as a matter of fact.” Lenhserr said, easily.

Kurt blinked.  
“But we thought I’d do better at… setting terms.” Erik smiled again, but it was not a reassuring smile. Kurt twitched, minutely. He tried to hide his nerves by reaching for the contract forms he usually had on hand.  
“I… these are templates in the usual style.” He said, a little weakly. Lensherr brushed them aside with a wave of his hand.  
“Oh, I prefer… _individual_ agreements, in business, myself.” He said, and grinned. “Get a pen, and some blank paper. Let’s thrash this out together.” Kurt swallowed, and nodded.

At least Charles had been examined by a doctor last week (Sharon had said he had a broken rib, after the beating. He hadn’t. Kurt knew she coddled her children too much.) And the doctor had checked Charles’ virginity, as usual, and Charles had come up pure. Kurt decided to urge everything on as fast as he could. Let the Lensherrs –and Charles- deal with buyer’s remorse _after_ everything was signed, sealed, and consummated. It would be too late then.  
“Right. So. Maintenance payments- weekly or monthly?” he said, briskly.  
“Oh, I think monthly will be easier.” Erik said, genially.   
“You’ll want him living with you, though?” Kurt said. They usually did, at least until the birth. It made the maintenance payments less. Lensherr blinked.  
 _Of course._ ” he rumbled. “That doesn’t make any difference, does it?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Kurt said, smoothly. _Genoshans._ He was going to take them for everything they had. He felt almost benevolent towards Charles, for once. Kurt restrained himself from rubbing his hands together, barely, and watched Lensherr begin drawing up his own contract.   
As long as the kid did his part, and popped out a baby or two quickly enough, this was money for nothing, practically. Well- in a couple of years, maybe, he’d be back on the market as a young, healthy bearer, with proven capability. Unless they lost him to infection, childbirth or damage, Charles would be providing his family with a reliable income for _years_ And he would have Raven to fuss with, if he started missing the babies once they went. And that would keep Charles sweet, and Raven out of Kurt’s hair, until he needed her. Things couldn’t be better, for Kurt.

*****************

“I-I don’t think this is wise, ma’am.” Charles faltered. Emma did not slow her pace, drawing Charles up the main stairs inexorably. Her grip on his wrist could have been made of iron.  
“Don’t worry Charles. Erik’s with him now. It’s all being agreed.” Emma said, as she stalked along. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” She turned to him with a sudden, warm, smile. “I promise.” Charles swallowed, tensely, unwilling to protest more openly. He was finding the fact of Emma’s telepathy vaguely difficult to deal with. 

On the one hand, she might have been reading his mind ever since they first met, and thereby know every single one of his forbidden thoughts and scandalous behaviour. On the other hand, if she had, surely she and her husband, seeing Charles as he was, instead of as he pretended to be, would have wanted nothing more to do with him? Unless… they thought they could train it out of him, as Kurt claimed to be doing? Charles shivered again. Erik… Mr Lensherr looked a lot stronger than Kurt, and if his wife could read Charles’ mind…No, that was silly. 

Charles was a telepath himself, even if Kurt and Sharon preferred that that was not widely known. He managed to keep it down with damper drugs- and that shielded room- probably Emma did the same. He doubted someone as strong as Mr Lensherr put up with having his mind read when he didn’t need it- talking to someone privately at a party, for example. Emma shot him a puzzled look, and Charles blinked, nervously.  
“We just need to go in, sign the papers, and then that’s it. We’ll be able to protect you. And Raven, soon.” Emma said. Charles nodded. 

 

“I know it’s not, not ideal, but... everything will be all right, Charles. I _promise_.” Emma steered them both through the main hall. The other guests glanced at them, curiously, but no one commented.  
“He’s in his study.” Emma said, questioningly.  
“S-second door on the left.” Charles said. He tried to hang back, but Emma took a gentle hold of his elbow, and walked them both into Kurt’s study. Into the lion’s den, thought Charles, almost despairingly.

Kurt looked up at them with a huge, beaming smile. Charles faltered. He had never seen Kurt look so happy, not since- he chopped off that thought, sharply, as Mr Lensherr rose to greet his wife. She side stepped, pushing Charles slightly, and Mr Lensherr must have not seen it, or, or something, because when he bent to hug his wife, he hugged Charles, too. Emma wound her arms around both of them, hiding her husband’s error smoothly. Charles stiffened, but the hug went on. It was quite pleasant, being embraced, Charles thought. A fleeting thought went though his mind. _I could get used to this._

“Good.” Emma said into his ear. He whipped his head round to stare at her as the hug loosened, but she merely stared back at him, blandly. “Are these the papers?” she said to Kurt. He hastily stopped frowning at Charles, and beamed at her as he signed his name.  
“Yes, dear.” Erik said, brightly. He appeared to be trying not to laugh. She flicked him a warning glance, and read through them all, swiftly, but carefully. Charles fidgeted, slightly.  
“Do you have a pen?” Kurt said, smoothly. Emma held out a hand without looking at him. He dunked the pen in the inkwell, and handed it over.

Emma signed the papers in three places, and handed them to her husband, who did the same. Kurt was about to reach for them, when the pen- and the papers- ended up in Charles’ hands. He looked at them, puzzled.  
“You sign here and here, sweetie.” Emma said. “If this is what you want.”  
“Oh.” Charles said, blankly. It wasn’t usual for bearers to contract themselves out, unless they were completely alone in the world… maybe it was Gensoshan custom. And it was what he wanted. Of course. If it got him out of this house, and the Lensherrs were kind people…  
Hastily, without reading them, he inked his name in, and blew on it, gently, to dry the ink before it ran.

Kurt came round the corner of the desk, holding his hand out. Emma whisked the papers from Charles before he could hand them over.  
“Thank you. We’ll keep this copy.” Frustrated, Kurt stopped short, and smiled, thinly. Erik stepped to stand beside his wife, blocking Charles from his stepfather, which made him feel a little better, even as he tried to brace himself for the rest of what was coming.  
“Right, so.” Kurt said, clapping his hands together and smiling broadly. “The doctor examined Charlie here last week, and I have a letter confirming his virginity somewhere here…” He turned to shuffle through his correspondence.

Charles felt himself turn scarlet, as the Lensherrs gaped.  
“That… won’t be necessary.” Mr Lensherr said, in a strangled voice.  
“No?” Kurt said, sounding pleased. “Excellent. Well, I can send for the doctor tomorrow for confirmation of, well, the other.” Charles stared at the floor and wished he could hide under the carpet.  
“That _really_ won’t be necessary.” Emma snapped. Kurt wheeled to face her.  
“I assure you ma’am, it will be.” He said, firmly. “That contract’s not valid until it’s consummated. Until then, he stays right _here_ ” There was a small pause.

“Oh. Um, I-” Charles said, and flinched again, when Kurt turned on him.   
“Be quiet, you-“ He broke off, startled, to find that his raised arm had been seized by Mr Lensherr.  
“I see. And it’s Westchester custom that the, ah consummation, take place tonight?” Mr Lensher said, as if he had no idea he was preventing Kurt from striking his own stepson.  
“Yes.” Kurt said. That wasn’t quite true, Charles knew, but he didn’t care to point it out. He wanted out, as fast as he could. Mrs Lensherr looked as if as if she had bitten a lemon.  
There was another, slightly longer pause. Charles wondered if the Lensherrs were talking in their heads again.

“Very well.” Mrs Lensherr said, smoothly. “I’ll write a note to our servants, not to expect up until the morning.  
“Late Morning.” Mr Lensherr said, heavily. He turned to look at Charles, and his shoulders blocked out the rest of the room, as his wife scribbled away.  
“Well, Charles?” he said, gently. “You signed the papers. Are you willing?” Charles looked from Mr Lensherr to his wife, and from her to Kurt, still glowering in the background. He looked at Mr’s Lensherr’s sharp, kindly eyes and Mr Lensherrs’ wide, smiling mouth, and he knew.  
“Yes.” He said, softly. “I’m willing.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prelude to porn. That's about it.

So. In the space of one evening, Charles had gone from being confined to the kitchens, in disgrace, to being rescued, not by Prince Charming, or even the Fairy Godmother, but by a married couple from Genosha, and from there to not only witnessing his first breeding contract being agreed on but also signing it. That was really too many changes in too short a space of time for Charles to be able to absorb comfortably, even if Kurt wasn't smiling at him as if he were capable pleasing him. Maybe it was just nerves. The first time you did anything, you were bound to worry a little. 

Mrs Lensherr caught Charles' eye and smiled. _Telepath_ , he reminded himself, and smiled nervously back. Charles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this, he reminded himself. It was what he'd been born for, according a number of holy texts, and Kurt's rambles. He had had lessons... Well, he'd read some books. Kurt gave him a little push, not at all rough or painful, towards the Lensherrs. Charles stumbled a step towards them, and stopped.

They led him into the bed chamber gently, each holding one of his hands in both of theirs. Charles was sure his hands were unpleasantly clammy. He hadn't had any time to brace himself before being ordered to the bedroom. It was the second guest chamber, which Sharon had hung with green wallpaper. Only last year It was bright and clean, and the covers had already been turned down, invitingly, on the extra large bed. Charles swallowed, uncomfortably, and wished he could run a finger around his collar. Mr Lensherr flashed him a swift, warming smile.

“You look a little nervous, Charles.” Mrs Lenhserr said, softly. “Are we really being allowed to share your first time?” Mr Lensherr stopped dead, pulling Charles awkwardly between them. His eyes shone as he gazed at Charles again, as if he were some wonderous rare creature indeed.  
“Yes, ma'am.” Charles said quietly. “I promise, I'm pure. I won't contaminate your-” _children_ he'd been going to say, but Mr Lensherr had stepped closer to him and was kissing him before he could finish. Charles was determined to be a good , obedient Bearer, so he dutifully opened his mouth and let Mr Lensherr's tongue work it's will there. 

Mr Lensherr pulled away from his kissing slowly; Charles tried to follow him as he moved away and staggered, slightly.  
“Oh.” he said, aloud, and winced to hear himself speaking without first being spoken to.. Mr Lensherr looked at him again, and _smiled._ Neither of the two seemed to have noticed his slip. Charles breathed out again.  
“Oh?” Mrs Lensherr queried, cheerily as she urged them both towards the bed.  
“So that's what Essex means when he writes about obedience bringing unexpected rewards.” Charles said, and flushed a brilliant scarlet.

The Lensherrs both laughed. Mrs Lensherr sat on the bed. Mr Lensherr turned to the decanter of wine and the two glasses on the sideboard. He frowned.  
“They've forgotten a glass. Excuse me my dears, I'll just-” He made a swift stride to the door.  
“It's not forgotten.” Charles said, urgently. They both stared at him. “The Bearer isn't supposed to-”  
“What, drink?” Mrs Lensherr said, surprised. “That seems a little cruel.”  
“Have their own glass. I-it's to remind the Bearer- to remind me- of my sub -” Charles began, rather desperately. Mrs Lensherr snorted. 

“More foolishness. Leave it, Erik, we can share glasses.” They shared a swift, married people's smile. Charles watched their moment of accord, wistfully.  
“Sharing glasses is part of the wedding ceremony, in Genosha.” Mrs Lensherr said, patting the bed. “Come sit by me, Charles.” Obediently- no other name for it- he went. Mr Lensherr prowled after, carrying wine and glasses. He filled one glass, handed it to his wife. She made quick work of it. Then he glanced thoughtfully at Charles, and half-filled it again, before handing it to Charles. 

Charles sipped. It was fortified wine; the strong stuff his father had liked. He sipped again, and coughed, slightly. The wine was very strong, and Charles felt slightly less cold and stiff after drinking it.  
“Good?” Mr Lensherr said, looking at him closely. He refilled the glass and drank it down himself, swiftly.  
“Yes thank you.” Charles said, automatically. Mrs Lensherr sighed. 

Mr Lensherr's face twitched oddly, and then he did something Charles had no context for. He knelt at Charles' feet and looked up at him. Charles blinked down, bewildered. He felt Mrs Lensherr's arm encircle his shoulder and had to fight not to lean into the reassuring warmth of it.  
“Charles. I know this is all new and strange to you. I have to ask again, now it's just us three... are you willing?” Charles began to open his mouth. Of course he was willing to be obedient. He knew his duty in life, after all. If this had been a very sudden and unexpected beginning, well, there were far worse ways of fulfilling his duties. Even if he was more than half certain the Lensherrs had chosen him out of pity, and possibly, a diplomatic desire to avoid a scene.

At least Charles was reasonably certain they didn't _want_ to hurt him. Not more than might be necessary, anyway.  
“It's important to us that you are.” Mrs Lensherr said. “Do you understand, honey? Not just obedient, but willing?” Charles closed his mouth. Thought for a little. Considered the... rewards of obedience. Then, solemn and shy, he nodded. Just once.  
“Thank all the gods.” Lensherr breathed, and immediately began to remove Charles's shoes. His wife laughed, once, shortly. Then she began to help Charles out of his jacket. 

In a surprisingly short amount of time, Charles was completely naked. He was glad of the warm fire then. His... hosts? Breeders? Neither term seemed correct, not really- stared at him as if he were a precious and beautiful thing. Mr Lensherr stroked the bruises on the back of Charles' legs, regretfully. His wife bent and began to kiss the striped welts across his his back. Charles flushed and shifted, uneasily. The marks of Kurt's temper were fading. He hoped they didn't want to put more marks there. Some people liked to keep their Bearer humble, as if they'd need to, given how-  
“Oh, don't do that, darling.” Mrs Lensherr purred in his ear. “You should know your beauty is appreciated by the people you choose to share it with.”

“You're not sharing _yours._ ” Charles pointed out, and then blinked, cursing the wine for his wayward tongue. He braced himself for a disciplinary swat, but none seemed forthcoming.  
“He's got a point, darling.” Mr Lensherr said, as he rose from his knees, easily. He shed his jacket and waistcoat as he spoke.  
“True.” Mrs Lensherr said. “Can you help me with my laces, honey?” She half turned, presenting Charles with a view of her cream-skinned shoulders and a row of beautiful and complicted tied knots that marched all the way down her ivory dress. He began to fumble with them, carefully. The first few seemed easy. The next few... not so much.

“This is about the point where I curse and consider taking a pair of scissors to the damn things, usually.” Mr Lensherr said in Charles' ear. Charles jumped slightly, at the sudden closeness of the other man and was startled to feel nothing but warm skin against his own. While he'd been looking elsewhere, Mr Lensherr had removed his shirt, trousers and underwear. Charles stared. Mr Lensherr was completely naked. Charles had never seen such as wondrous sight before. He pulled at the ties to his wife's dress with his long, fine fingers. Charles stared some more. Mr Lensherr was beautiful, lean and toned and... 

Mr Lensherr lifted the dress over Mrs Lensherss's head as she rasied her arms to hm, gracefully. He threw aside this wife's petticoats, quietly triumphant .  
“Hah!” he said, gleefully. The lamps flickered over his skin., painting him like a godling of old.  
Charles swallowed, as Mr Lensherr moved, unselfconscious in his nudity. Charles had no idea how that thing was going to _fit_ in him. He hoped they would allow him to use oil. Mrs Lensherr lay back on the bed, smiled and reached out for him. Charles gaped at her, also blindingly beautiful in nothing but her skin. Helpless, he moved towards her.

'Don't panic, sweet.” she said, gently. “We'll make everything good for you, I promise.” Charles nodded. And nodded. His ability to talk, let alone think, appeared to be disappearing rapidly.  
“I promise too.” Mr Lensherr breathed into Charles' ear. A ripple of gooseflesh chased across Charles' skin at the feel of the warm breath on his ear.  
“Try to trust us.” Mrs Lensherr said. Charles nodded again. And... trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triune is now going to be updated a little more slowly, as the next chapter is more threesome time, and I don't feel happy writing explicit and detailed sex at work. It requires a mood that doesn't really go with filing. Sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, the actual, y'know, _threesome._
> 
> Read at your own risk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All honour and praise be unto the noble Afrocurl, who cast a discerning eye over this and reassured me that everyone in it appeared to be sticking to the realm of physical probability in their actions, once we discount Charles' extra parts, of course.
> 
> And caught all my spelling mistakes, too. _Thank you_ , Afrocurl!

_I guess we should have learnt we're no good at arranging marriages of convenience **last time.**_ Erik said wordlessly to his wife, ruefully, as they climbed the stairs with their new spouse. _Can you think of any way we can break this off, now?_  
 _Not in any way that wouldn't hurt Charles worse than sleeping with us tonight, no._ Emma snapped. Her hand tightened on Charles, and the younger man glanced at her, worriedly.  
 _How is he?_  
 _Resolute._ Emma said, wryly. _I suppose it could be worse._

Erik opened the door to the bedroom, and bowed them both inside. He shut the door on Kurt's platitudes and ugly face with a sigh of relief. No more surprises, tonight, he hoped.  
And then Charles just confirmed that he was indeed, completely virgin to the whole matter of sex. Erik had no words- neither did Emma- for the trust Charles was placing in them, allowing them to share his first time, so open and hopeful.

Cautiously, Erik kissed him. To his relief, Charles didn't seem to mind kissing. A sparkle crept into his eyes, and he made a witty quip. Emma smiled at them both. Erik looked for the wine. _Someone_ was probably going to need it. He nerved himself to ask, one more time, if Charles knew what he was getting himself into. Charles seemed to think he did; and at least was in control of himself enough to prod Erik into joining him in stripping off his clothing. 

Erik felt old, harshly weathered, compared to Charles' freshness. Emma giggled at him, in the back of his mind. Sharing one wineglass made him remember the ludicrous nature of the beginning of his marriage to Emma, too. He was happy to turn over some of the task of getting her out of her petticoats to Charles, though, who, like Emma was lithe and palely beautiful, naked. 

_Indeed he is._ Emma agreed with him, privately. _Do you think we could persuade Warren or Betsy to paint him like this?_  
 _Only in summer, in front of a fire_ Erik retorted. _He might get a chill._  
Emma sat back on the bed, pushing the pillows behind her for support, and held out her hand to Charles.  
“Come and sit with me, Charles.” Obediently, Charles did. At her instruction, he sat facing away from Emma, leaning back against her very carefully. Emma smiled at Erik like a cat who was anticipating getting, not just the cream, but possibly the entire dairy.

 _And only if I get to stay in the room the whole time._ Erik added, sharply. Emma smiled again.  
 _Why am I not surprised?”_  
And then it was time to concentrate wholly on Charles. At last.  
 _How should we...?_ Erik said.  
 _You two first. I'll watch._ Emma said, coolly. _I think both of us at once might be a mite overwhelming. For a first time._ Erik agreed.

Charles sat in Emma's lap as if it were a throne, her legs bracketing his on the bed. Emma tilted her head sideways and smiled, encouragingly at Erik, as she ran her fingers through Charles' hair. Charles stretched, like a cat being petted. Erik licked his lips, and summoned up all his formidable self control. They would both be worthy of the trust their innocent Charles had placed in them. They _would._  
Erik crawled up the bed, and kissed Charles again. Charles' eyes, already large, grew wide and dark as they kissed. Erik sat back on his heels and gazed. 

Naked, flushed with at least a little desire (Erik hoped) as well as excitement, Charles looked thoroughly and wholly edible. Erik felt his own desire boil up and reminded himself, again, of the need for gentleness, and slow care. This was Charles' first time. He and Emma would be able to share this with Charles only once. 

_Delicious_ Emma said, silently.  
 _Yes._ Erik said, in response. 

Erik decided that other parts of Charles needed kissing. His freckles, for example- and that quickly led to his nipples. Erik focused on Charles' right nipple for the moment. Emma, supportive soul that she was, began to toy with his left, pinching and rubbing it gently, whilst kissing the back of his neck.  
“Oh, oh, oh!” Charles gasped. He arched his back, and flailed out with his left hand, in reaction. Erik caught the errant hand, and returned it to the bed sheets with a quick pat. Charles' knuckles clenched whitely on the soft cloths. Erik grinned to himself and began kissing his way down Charles' chest and belly, surrendering the higher ground to Emma. 

“I- oh, oh!” Charles said, gasping. “Shouldn't I-i-i aaaah be doing something? F-fooooor you?” His voice pitched and yawed like a boat in stormy weather as Erik continued his ministrations.  
“You are doing something, sweetness.” Emma said. “You're doing very well.”  
Charles appeared to be trying to think. Erik didn't want that, and so, mindful of the restless way the younger man's hips were moving, he shuffled down, and sucked Charles's very eager cock, not that much smaller than a non bearing man's, into his mouth. 

Charles yelled. Emma abandoned her exploration of his nipples in order to hold Charles up, as Erik continued to lick and suck. He slipped his tongue along the slit, before tasting the head of Charles' cock. He was very pleased by the reaction he got. Charles' spine appeared to have _liquefied_. His head lolled, and his eyes seemed to be rolling back in his head. Frantically, he stretched out his hands, looking for support, an anchor, anything to hold him steady in this new and confusing storm of sensation. 

Emma put out one of her hands and seized Charles' left in a steadying, reassuring grip as he began to shudder with his approaching orgasm.  
“Breathe, honey. Keep breathing.” she whispered past his ear. Charles sucked in a deep breath obediently. Erik coughed, and placed his hands on Charles' hips to keep them steady, before re applying his mouth  
“I- oh, oh,” Charles began to babble. “What's?-” And then the storm broke thorough Charles, silencing him completely, apart from a single wheezing gasp. 

Erik swallowed every drop Charles produced, and licked him clean. Charles sighed, still breathing rapidly, and stared at the ceiling, rapt in discovery.  
“Greedy, husband.” Emma said, teasingly. “At least share a taste with me?” Erik slid up the bed and they kissed, Charles still held safely between them, his taste sharp on both their tongues.  
Charles wrapped one of his arms around Erik in a clumsy hug.  
“Charles?” Erik said, after a small pause. “Are you with us?” 

Um.” Charles said, huskily. “Yes. Very very... yes.” he concluded, weakly. 

Above his head, Emma smiled across at Erik, twining her spare hand in his hair. The three of them lay together, quietly. Time passed. Then, something shifted in Erik, and he looked at his wife, who nodded. They both doubted that what had just occurred, undetectable by a doctor as it was, would count as consummation, unfortunately.  
“Charles?” Emma said, softly, as Erik disentangled himself and padded off in search of oil. “Are you ready for more?”

There's _more_?” Charles said, unbelievingly. Then the penny seemed to drop. “Yes, yes of course.” This had all been about Charles's pleasure, seemingly- of course they would want satisfaction, too. “I- How should I- what would please-”  
“You, just as you are.” Emma soothed. “You are lovely, Charles. Believe it.” Charles felt himself blush at the compliment. It wasn't true, but oh, if it was...!  
“Have you...” Erik voice seemed a little uncertain. “Have you ever touched yourself here, behind your balls, Charles? “Charles shook his head.  
“The doctor said it was unhealthy.” He said, apologetically.

Erik took a brief moment to curse all Westchesterians.  
“Then this might hurt a little, just at first. Let me know if it's too much, and I'll stop.” Charles swallowed, eyeing Erik's manhood nervously.  
“I'm not entirely sure it's not too much for me already.” Erik smiled.  
“It's all right, honey.” Emma drawled. “Believe me when I tell you he's _good_ with that thing.”  
“Hey!” Erik said, but the quip had done what it was supposed to; Charles looked more relaxed, on the edge of a giggle. 

“Charles, can you spread your legs for me?” Charles complied, dutiful and nervous. Erik could see him visibly brace himself, squaring his shoulders. Slowly, he moved to kneel between Charles' legs Erik lifted the oil flask and placed it in Emma's grasp. She tilted it, pouring a generous amount into Erik's hand. He made sure his fingers were well covered, and then he slid his hand up Charles right thigh, up and behind his balls, circling his bearing entrance. Charles stiffened and gasped.  
“Relax.” Emma said, angling her head for a better view.  
“T-trying.” Charles quavered, as Erik continued to explore him with one finger “This is all very- Aah! _What was that!?_ ” 

“Sorry, sorry!” Erik said, before he realized Charles wasn't quite complaining.  
“That's your clitoris, love.” Emma said. “Fun, isn't it?”  
“Y-yes.” Charles choked out, and then _“Gods.”_ as Erik began to stretch his passage wider with two fingers, using his thumb to tease Charles at the same time. Erik paused, and lifted one of Charles' legs, hooking his ankle over his shoulder.  
“Alright?” he asked again 

_“Would you please just... just keep _going._ Charles gasped, but his cock roused, so Erik thought it was safe to go on. And on. Erik snapped his hips forwards and back, and felt Charles rise to meet him. Erik groaned. Emma snaked a hand down and began touching Charles, in rhythm with Erik's thrusts. Charles's hips stuttered and then Charles cried out, ragged and delighted and desperate, as Erik's movements and Emma's touch combined to bring him to his peak. As he came, Charles' inner walls convulsed around Erik, fluttering and gripping at Erik's cock, and that was the final touch that caused him to spill over. He shouted, hoarsely, as he came._

Charles opened his eyes after a period of warm, sticky, dazed blankness that was neither sleep nor unconsciousness to see Erik and Emma embracing. Caught in the flickering warm light of the oil light, they looked like a work of art. As Erik slid down to lap between his wife's thighs her hands tightened in his auburn hair. She threw her head back, gasping. Charles looked on, wistfully. They were so... in accord with each other. So in harmony. He felt privileged to be included, however briefly, in such warmth and closeness. 

The muscles on Erik's back rippled like snakes under oiled silk. Emma said something sharp, and Charles saw Erik grin, even as he brought his wife off to her satisfaction. Charles tried to edge away, towards the side of the large bed, assuming they were done for the night, but he did not pick his time well. Emma's eyes opened, and both she and Erik snapped out a hand to seize the nearest part of Charles they could, and hold him still.  
“You're not leaving.” Erik said, firmly.  
“No.” Charles said, meekly. “I just thought... some water?” He gestured to the jus and bowl on the nightstand.

“Good idea.” Emma said. She slid off the bed herself and paced towards the nightstand, slowly. Charles found himself unable to look away as she soaked two towels, throwing one to Erik and using the other herself.  
“Lie back, Charles.” Erik said, gently. Wearily, Charles obeyed. The fresh damp towel felt very nice, though, as Erik cleaned him up. He felt the bed dip as Emma climbed under the covers.

Parts of Charles were beginning to report back with soreness and aches. It was very pleasant to be urged under the covers himself, to feel Emma's soft breasts against his chest, to know Erik was lying behind him, and that it was Erik's hand on his hip. Charles felt his eyes close, and he blinked. Erik sighed into the back of his neck.  
“Go to sleep.”  
He didn't want to go to sleep. When he woke, this would all be over. Charles yawned.  
“We'll all be here in the morning Charles, I promise.” Emma whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast on the morning after the night before, with Kurt and Raven.

Charles woke up and realised he was smiling. He was stiff, sore, and quite achy, really, but he felt _wonderful_. It was wrong of him, but he almost hoped he hadn’t conceived yet, because it meant he might have a chance at experiencing more sex with the Lensherrs. That would be… nice.   
“You’re _grinning._ ” Mr Lensherr- no, Erik, he had said to call him Erik- said. Charles turned his head and beamed at him, remembering how… careful, how passionate he had been before, bending over Charles like a great beast of prey, and pulling the pleasure through and from Charles’ body like a, like… Well, like something very impressive, anyway.

Caught in the full focus of Charles’s smile, Erik blinked, slowly. Charles was positively glowing this morning. Perhaps it was due to the sun now pouring in through the high windows.  
“I… take it you have no regrets, Charles?” Emma said, softly, as she sat up.  
“No.” Charles said, incredulous. A nasty thought stuck him. “Um… do you?” He hoped not, but it would be polite to check.  
“Never.” Erik said, fiercely, and Emma chimed in _“Never.”_  
“Oh good.” Charles said, cheerily. “Does anyone else want breakfast?” He was quite hungry, for some reason.

 

 _He’s still **smiling**. Is everything alright?_. Erik said to his wife on their private line, half an hour later. Emma turned from contemplating Charles as he dreamily ate his porridge, and said, equally privately  
 _Honey. If the virgin you took to your bed the night before is smiling like that the next day, you should know you did **something** right._ She took another bite of her toast. Erik preened himself, slightly. Charles did seem happier.  
 _You smirked like that, too._ she added a moment later. Erik coughed.  
 _Did not._  
 _Did too._ Emma said. _Which reminds me…_

Aloud, she said;  
“Charles, what would you like as a morning-gift?” Charles blinked, and dropped his spoon.  
“What?” he said, inelegantly.  
“When somebody… shares their first time with you, in Genosha, we give them a gift.” Erik said, quietly. “It’s respectful, traditional.”  
“Oh.” Charles said, thoughtfully. “That sounds very pleasant.”  
“So, what would you like?” Erik said.   
“I. Um." What did you give?” Charles said to him, flustered. Erik smiled, looking impishly at Emma.

“I gave him the extra slice of toast.” Emma said, cheerfully.  
“Toast?” Charles said, puzzled. The others both laughed.  
“Our options were limited.” Erik said, also cheerfully. “We were running away.”   
“We eloped to spite my guardian.” Emma said. “What a long time ago it seems now.”  
“But we’re in Marko’s house right now, and the toast isn’t ours to give.” Erik said, more seriously. “So… ask for something bigger, please.” Charles blinked, thoughtfully, laying down his spoon and staring into his bowl. _Ask for something bigger?_

Well. He _could_. It was risky, but if they said yes, it would be worth _everything._ Neither Erik nor Emma had hit him yet. And they were Genoshan. They might not realise what a vast thing Charles was asking for.   
“I. Um.” He said, and then bit his lips. Erik and Emma continued to gaze at him, encouragingly. He cleared his throat, sipped some tea, and tried again.  
“If I get pregnant… If there’s a child, from this...” Charles murmured to his teacup.  
“Yes, Charles?” Erik said, reassuringly.  
“Could I… see them, after the seven days?” Charles said, hopefully. Emma blinked. Erik’s jaw dropped. “Not every day. Just, just sometimes? I, I wouldn’t tell them who I was, or anything, but…” 

He dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap, missing the horrified anger in the gazes that met over his bent head.   
“You’re asking for permission to meet your children.” Erik said, a little flatly. “As your morning-gift.” Charles glanced at him, rapidly, before staring at his lap again. Erik looked… angry. Charles swallowed, nervously.  
“Is that too much? I’m sorry, I don’t know, I-“ Emma laid a hand on top of his.  
“Charles.” She said, softly. “You don’t need to _ask_ for that. Not from us.” 

Erik stood up, and strode round the table, clasping Charles against his shoulder in a quick, rough hug.  
“We wouldn’t dream of separating you from your children, ever.” he said. “Not ever, you hear me, Charles?” Charles blinked. For some reason his eyes seemed oddly wet  
“Frankly, I’m not intending to let either of you go while you’re still breathing.” Emma said, lightly “So think of another gift, please, Charles?”   
“And no thinking about Raven, we already said we’d help her, too.” Erik said, as he re seated himself.

“Is that _another_ plateful of bacon?” Emma said, dryly.  
“’Mm hungry.” Erik said. “Got to replace my strength.” He took a large mouthful of bread and bacon, and chewed, firmly.  
Charles gazed in front of him. silently.  
“I don’t know what to ask for.” He confessed, eventually. “What.. What’s usual?”  
“Anything.” Erik said, and waved his fork. “Jewels, paintings, a decent kettle, an army, preserved fruit, whatever you want and we can give.”  
“What do you like, Charles?” Emma said, gently. “Gardens? Horses?” 

Charles hid his instinctive reaction to the idea of sitting on a horse in the near future. Or on anything that wasn’t soft and well padded.  
“I… I’m quite fond of reading-?” he offered. A book would be nice, as a present. Charles had never really had a book of his own before.  
“Books?” Erik said, thoughtfully.  
“Books.” Emma said, in agreement.

The door to the breakfast room banged open, and a little blue blur shot into the room.  
“Charles, Charles!” Raven cried. “Are you alright? You weren’t in your room!”  
“Hm, what?" I’m _fine_ , Raven. Say a proper good morning to Mr and Mrs Lensherr-“  
“To who?” Erik said, bluntly. Charles flushed.  
“Well, it’s, um, you’re grownups, Raven is just a little girl-“  
“AM _not!_ Raven said. “I’m eight!”  
“He means, that’s not how our family names work.” Emma said. 

She turned to Raven: “I’m Emma Frost-Lensherr. This is Erik Lensherr-Frost. May I offer you some breakfast?” The young girl’s forehead wrinkled at the two different names, but she cheered up when breakfast was mentioned.  
“Yes please!” Charles poured out some milk into a cup, and Erik spooned some porridge into a bowl.  
“Milk, butter, honey, or salt in your porridge?” Emma asked.  
“Honey please.” Raven said, promptly. “Lots, please.”  
“Raven!” Charles chided.   
“Does anyone ever have salt on their porridge?” Erik mused.

“Northerners.” Said Raven, promptly. “They’re blue, but it’s paint. Cain says-“ she broke off. Charles looked up from his bowl.  
“Cain says what?” Emma said, intrigued  
“Cain says if I marry someone from the North, they might not think I was ugly.” Raven said, in a small voice, digging her spoon into her porridge.  
“You are not ugly.” Erik said. “Blue, or green or brown or pink.” Raven gazed at him with wide eyes.

“Kurt says-“ she started to say.  
“He’s wrong.” Emma cut in. “Isn’t he, Charles?”  
“Absolutely. Raven you know I always tell you you’re beautiful-“ The glance he got from the little girl was strangely weary.  
“Yes. But you’re my brother, Charles. You’re supposed to, it doesn’t count.”  
“Cain’s your brother too, Raven.” Erik said. “Isn’t he?”  
“Yes, but I don’t like him.” Raven said promptly. Erik bent close to her and mock whispered  
“Can you keep a secret? _Neither do I_. They shared a conspirator’s grin.

“What are you doing today, Charles?” Raven said, when her porridge was done.  
“He’s packing.” Emma said. “With me." Want to help?”  
“What’s he packing?” Emma glanced at Charles, wryly.   
“Whatever he wants to take away from here. Apart from the clothes, he needs new ones.”  
Charles ignored the jab at his demure (and small) wardrobe in favour of feeling relief that the Lensherr-Frosts would indeed take him back to their house. Raven’s face fell.  
“How long are you going away for, Charles?”   
“Oh, um-“ Charles said.

“We’re keeping him.” Erik said firmly. “But you can still see him!” he added hastily, as the tears threatened.  
“Yes, dear. Come and see Charles -and us- whenever you like.” Emma said to Raven. “I’ll give you the address. Just get a cab, we can pay when you’re there-“ Charles choked.  
 _The alternative is leaving her here alone, or risking an eight year old shape shifter running around the city alone._ she said silently to him.  
 _Ah, yes._ Charles said.

He began to worry about the cost of these cabs. Well, if Kurt allowed him a little of his maintenance payments, he could save up, and pay them back, if they were very expensive.  
“And I have to go to see the Ambassador, and the Bank.” Erik said, throwing down a napkin.  
“We have to see the Ambassador, this afternoon, you mean.” Emma said, coolly. “I know what you’re like, the two of you by yourselves.” Erik grinned. “And Charles and I will be going to the bank this afternoon; perhaps you can keep Raven company, then?” Raven giggled. Erik nodded.

 

The breakfast room door opened again, and Cain swaggered in. Raven and Charles stopped smiling.  
“Morning, ma’am. Sir.” He said, with a short nod to Emma and Erik. He ignored his siblings completely. Carefully, Raven edged her chair nearer to Erik. He smiled at her, and got up to pour himself more coffee. Emma quickly reached out and moved Raven to sit between herself and Charles, as far away from Cain as possible. Cain piled a plate high with bacon and bread and sat down heavily. Erik sat down again, placing himself firmly between Cain and the rest of the party. A short silence fell, broken only by the noisy chewing as Cain ploughed through his breakfast.

Cain grunted.  
“Good night?” Erik and Emma exchanged glances, trying to work out who Cain was addressing, and how to avoid having to throttle him. Charles didn’t reply. Raven got up and flitted out, muttering a shy goodbye.  
“No complaints, Lensherr? Ma’am?” Cain said, and winked.  
“The sheets were adequately aired, I suppose.” Emma said, as if bored. “My complements to your staff.” Cain frowned. The corner of Charles’ mouth turned up.  
“Doc’s gonna be here soon.” Cain offered next. Charles looked up from his plate, and nodded. 

Cain grinned at him, leering. He leant forwards, and whispered loudly “Suppose you might need his help; that cushion you’re sitting on might not be enough.” Not a muscle moved on Charles’ face. “Told ya it’d hurt.” Cain added, happily. Erik cleared his throat, and shifted in his chair. Charles’s eyes cut towards him, briefly.  
“Yes, about that, Cain…” Charles began and stopped. He smiled then, slowly and blindingly. “I’m afraid your information was… incorrect.”   
“What?” Cain snapped.  
“I suppose, if you were referring to your own experience, that _might_ explain it-“  
“Hey now!” Cain snarled, going red. Emma tried not to laugh. Charles Xavier was an _imp_

Charles kept talking, cheerfully.  
“Possibly you could consult an expert, but-“ Cain moved to loom over Charles, who paled, but didn’t stop smiling.  
“You just shut your filthy-“ Cain said, as his hands bunched into fists. He got no further. Emma moved, whirling up from her chair to strike Cain precisely on three nerve points with a diamond fist. Cain yelled, and there was a complicated flurry of movement that ended with Cain pressed face first into the breakfast table, groaning.

“Mr Marko.” Emma said, icily. “I feel you should know, Charles Xavier and his sister are now under my -our- protection. A threat to them is an insult to me.” Cain cursed at her.  
“Get off me, you crazy bitch.” He rolled his head round to gaze at Erik. “Lensherr- get your wife under contro-aaah!”  
“Slow learner.” Erik said, dryly. “Charles, I’m not sure any expert could help him, unless he had some picture books.” Charles smiled at him, shyly.  
“I repeat.” Emma said. “From now on, you are not to look at Mr Xavier, touch him, talk to him, or of him.” She increased the pressure, and Cain howled, hoarsely. “Understand?”   
“Yes, I understand, gods!” Emma let Cain go, and after a wary pause, he scrambled up and ran.

Charles ran his fingers through his hair. He thought, he honestly thought, he could not love these more people if he _tried._   
“Who is this doctor he was babbling about?” Emma asked. Charles jumped.   
“Dr Victor? Oh, he’s the family doctor.” Charles said, awkwardly. He didn’t like the doctor, at all “To, to testify about the consummation. Kurt usually gets him, if I’m… ill.”  
“Ah.” Emma said, blandly.  
“Shall we to the doctor, then, love? Make sure he knows we're all as consumed as can be?” Erik said, almost carelessly, looking at Charles strangely.  
“I, ah, yes.” Charles said, slowly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles moves out. Erik visits his boss. And life goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who the Ambassador is, before he's identified (at the end of the chapter)?
> 
> Can you? :)

The carriage swayed slightly. The horse pulling this cab was nervy, and he (or she) kept trying to startle, shying at wind and shadows, and jerking the body of the cab with her.  
Charles felt nervous, too.. The meeting had taken so long, and they’d been late to it to start with, as he’d dithered over what he would be allowed to keep of his belongings, if he moved out for a longer period than nine or ten months. Emma had been little help, simply noting that the apartment was roomy enough for everything but furniture and he should just pack everything he liked. How was Charles supposed to know what he’d be allowed to take without any rules?

In the end, he’d taken little. There was little that was actually his, apart from his clothes, and Emma had, well she hadn’t said anything, but it was clear she didn’t like them. So Charles took the neatest, newest of his outfits, and left it at that. That, his father’s papers, that he’d given to Charles before he died, and a small box of mementoes was all that he could call his own, really. Charles nibbled on his lip, fretfully. What if they’d expected him to come with more baggage? What if he was-

“Don’t worry, love.” Emma advised him, calmly. “The Ambassador’s a patient man; he understands little delays like meetings over running.  
“I-I think Mr Stryker wasn’t expecting us.” Charles said, apologetically. He’d met the head of Stryker’s Bank before; although that had been one of those chance social events that were really just inspections for the future He hadn’t liked him then, and a longer exposure to the man had not improved him.  
“No, perhaps not. But he wanted to wait until our… _man_ turned up, so he could discuss things fully.” Emma said, still calmly.

“That’s- You’re a woman, and I’m a Bearing man.” Charles said, helplessly. Emma raised an eyebrow. Charles groped for an explanation that wouldn’t get him into trouble.  
“We’re not- people like us don’t normally manage their own money. In Westchester.”  
“Honey, there _is_ no one like me.” Emma purred. Another jolt of the carriage bounced them together, and Charles winced. Emma eyed him sharply. Charles hung his head. Softly, Emma slid a graceful finger under Charles’ chin, and forced him to look her in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” She so badly needed Charles to be, well, if not happy, at least content about this marriage, and if he was having regrets already…  
“N- nothing, Ma’am.” His eyes slid sideways, evasively. Emma sighed and waited. The carriage creaked.  
“I- I’m just a little, um, stiff.” Charles offered. Emma waited some more. “Fromlastnight.” He mumbled. Emma felt foolish. Of course; Charles would still be a little sore. She was probably worrying over nothing.

Emma resolved to seek Genoshan medical advice later. The Westchesterian doctor who had examined Charles- making a lot of to-do over how hard it was to tell if had lost his virginity, seeing as he wasn’t _bleeding_ \- had turned her stomach. He’d seemed disappointed that Erik had been careful enough to avoid injuring Charles. At least with both of them present, his hands had had no chance to wander, something they apparently had a tendency to do, according to the revolting man’s thoughts. Emma turned her thoughts in a more cheerful direction. Charles would never have to endure the man again, and he’d certified everything was acceptable, eventually. Emma rather thought the twin glares he’d been getting from Charles’s new spouses had convinced him, in the end,

Charles eyed her nervously. Quite a lot of wives and husbands were… touchy about their bearers, and having to share their spouses with them. Emma was unusual in that she’d been in the room and part of… last night seemingly of her own volition, and had, as far as Charles could tell, enjoyed herself. She could still want to stake a claim on her husband, make it absolutely clear to Charles that he was only the bearer. Only temporary. He had to remember that. Even if… 

“I’ve got some salve, at home.” Emma said, breaking in. “After the meeting with the Ambassador, I’ll give you a back rub, if you think that would help?” Charles bit his lip.  
“It’s not too bad. I… I don’t want to be a bother.”  
“You won’t be.” Emma said, smiling. “Backrubs can be fun.” Charles looked at her, unsure. He _thought_ she was sincere, and he couldn’t think of a way in which a back rub could go wrong…   
“You’ll see.” Emma said, quietly, after a pause. Charles did not think she was just talking about the back rub.

 

The Genoshan Ambassador to Westchester leaned back in his chair and grinned, hugely. He dug out another cigar, sliced the end off neatly and stuck it in his mouth. Erik waited, almost patiently, as his boss lit the damn thing and kept puffing away at it for several minutes. He took care not to grind his teeth.  
“So.” The Ambassador said, finally. “Want to explain to me how you and Mrs Icy managed to get yourself accidentally married, _again_? He grinned again. Erik briefly regretted the laws and conventions that made it unwise to hit one’s employer, and drew a deep breath.  
“Emma and I met him, by accident, once.”  
“Uh huh. He’s a bearer, yes?”

“Yes. First Westchesterian one we’d met.” Erik admitted, ruefully.  
“And that shoulda told you something.”  
“We had one conversation; and as a result sent him some books. As a friendly gesture.”  
“Friendly, right.” The Ambassador said, still smirking.  
“It was misunderstood.” Erik bit out, curtly.  
“Sure, sure.” His boss said, mock soothingly.  
“The bearer- Charles- his home life was abusive.” Erik said, quietly. “I- we couldn’t leave him there, not when it was our misunderstandings that got him beaten like that.”   
“Beaten?” The Ambassador sat up, sharply. “Bub, you know what it’s like here, for them-“

“This was worse.” Erik said, thinking of the horror he and Emma had shared at the sight of Charles’ back; new welts over old scars.  
“Why’d he-“  
“His stepfather controls his inheritance; and it was his stepfather who came to us, seeking to make some kind of… deal.” Erik said. “Emma tried to delay him, so we could discuss matters with Charles; he took it as a refusal. Took it out on Charles.”  
“That’s standard here. The dealin’ with the parents part, anyway.” The Ambassador shrugged, and scratched at a sideburn. “Kinda makes sense, thinkin’ about it.”  
“Makes sense?” Erik snapped, thinking again of Charles and his patient acceptance of pain and suffering.

“Half the kids of the nobility an’ middle classes don’t know their birthing parent. Could risk marrying a sib, or near-cousin, real easy.” He rolled his eyes. “Deal with the parents, they can avoid that, ‘thout anyone knowing who produced who.”  
“Crazy.” Erik said, and shook his head, before catching himself. Damnit, he was not taking on his bosses’ mannerisms.  
“So, Charles?” he prodded. Erik scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly.  
“We thought a marriage of convenience-“ he began, and got no further. The Ambassador was roaring with laughter.

Erik waited, trying not to seethe, until the burly man had himself back under control.  
“That didn’t work _last time_! Didn’t you learn nothing?”  
“We would have taken Charles out of there, explained to him, waited until he was ready.” Erik said, “But Marko basically shoved us all into a bedroom, before the ink was dry.”  
“Huh.”  
“And let us know he had a doctor on standby to check on Charles’s… consummation.” Erik said, sourly. “So… we..”

“Consummated? Bet it must have been a real struggle, ensuring that.” Erik glared.  
“He’s eighteen. He was a virgin, and pretty close to terrified, and trying to hide it because we were his _duty._ ” he said, flatly. “And that was our- my fault.” His boss’s face softened from its glee.  
“You did the best you could.”  
“Wasn’t good enough.” Erik said, and stared at his hands. “We hurt him. _I_ hurt him.”  
“That what he says?”   
“He doesn’t understand, he’s-“

“Hey.” The Ambassador said, sharply. “Do _not_ do that, bub.”  
Puzzled, Erik looked up.  
“Don’t assume you know more about his, his experiences than _he_ does.” The swarthy man shifted, and looked away. “Your Charles might _just_ know more about himself than you do. Don’t dismiss his viewpoint just ‘cause he’s young, and stupid.”  
“He is _not_ stupid.” Erik said, firmly. “Under educated, maybe, but not-“ The ambassador waved him into silence.  
“Okay, okay! Your new honey is not stupid, got it.” 

He puffed away at his cigar, thoughtfully. A silence fell.  
“Right!” the Ambassador said, sharply, making Erik twitch. “I’ll receive him- with both of you, o’course.” He added as Erik bridled. “In the next day or so. Make it all official –like. Then you two can wheel him around, introduce him to the rest of the staff in this crazy place- and then, take off. All of you.”  
“Take off?” Erik said, warily. The Ambassador grinned again. Erik braced himself.  
“You just got married, bub. Go enjoy your honeymoon.”  
“What?”  
“You. Emma. Charles. Official marriage leave. Take a month. Go, get out of my hair. Get!” He stuck his cigar back into his mouth, quickly. Bemused, but reassured, Erik got, while the getting was good. 

Erik would never understand why- or, perhaps, more importantly, _how_ Logan Howlett, the Wolverine, had become part of Genosha’s Diplomatic Corps, let alone risen to Ambassador. But he was glad of it, all the same.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles gets a massage. Emma and Erik repeat their intentions that he's getting a happy ending.
> 
>  
> 
> The author is dragged out and shot for her last pun.

This was not how Charles had been expecting to get his first look at Erik and Emma’s bedroom. He hadn’t really thought about what their home would be like at all. He really hadn’t considered the fact that, as they were part of the diplomatic force, they would live in the great block of buildings known as the Genoshan Embassy, but they did. This part had been built a hundred years ago, and was easily the finest set of rooms Charles had ever found himself in. And he would be allowed in most of their apartment, he was sure. At least, when they were not entertaining.

The bedroom was a tall ceilinged, pleasant room, with an attractively cosy little room leading off it, just right for Charles’ nights when he wasn’t working towards pregnancy in the master bed. But the middle of the day and such a day too, seemed… incongruous, somehow. Erik put a gentle hand to the small of his back and pushed, lightly, urging Charles fully into the room. He crossed to the windows and began drawing down the blinds, dimming the lights.  
“Come on, strip off and on the bed. Face down.” Emma said, briskly.

“What, you’re not even going to say please, wife?” Erik joked, cheerfully. Charles swallowed, nervously.  
“Do… should I leave my under-“ he began. Emma cut him off.  
“Everything, please, Charles. The fresh air will do your bruises good.” Slowly, Charles pulled off his shirt and trousers. It was a little difficult, being naked, when they were still clothed. Especially as he was-  
“Charles, stop that.” Emma said, effortlessly picking up on his insecurity. “You are lovely to look at.” He blushed, and scrambled on to the bed, quickly. He wished he felt easier in that position. Face down mean more of his back was visible, leaving him vulnerable to punishment.

Face down also meant he was displaying the results of his past faults for all to see. Even if those seeing were the Lensherr-Frosts, or Frost-Lensherrs, that left Charles uneasy at heart.   
“Charles.” Erik said, earnestly. “Please, don’t worry. We don’t ever want to hurt you.” Charles nodded. Of course they didn’t _want_ to hurt him.  
“I know that.” He said. Erik’s face lightened. Charles just wanted to make sure they never _had_ to hurt him; was that so unusual?  
That’s what his mother had said, whenever Kurt declared he’d failed again _“Why do you have to make him punish you, Charles? Why can’t you just behave?”_ Charles had never wanted to behave for anyone as much as he wanted to behave for Erik and Emma.

He felt Erik drop lightly onto the bed next to him. Charles hoped he would always be able to please them as much as he had apparently done so last night, given how possessive they were both acting towards him. Since they had signed their names on Kurt’s papers and watched him sign his, one or other of them had been with Charles at all times. And not, he thought, because they didn’t trust him, or were waiting for an opportunity to punish him for another misdemeanour, either. He was beginning to like it; sternly he warned himself not to get used to... not being lonely. Erik and Emma were busy, important people; they wouldn’t always have time for Charles.

Then Emma laid her hands on him, and Charles’ thought processes faded out for a while. He decided he liked backrubs, if this was how they felt. His shoulders loosened with slightly alarming ease. Emma’s hands were relentless, seeking out every last knotted muscle and ruthlessly destroying the tension trapped within. Charles sighed with enjoyment. This was… wonderful. Sybaritic, luxurious. _Bearers should expect use, not pleasure_ , Essex had also written. Charles didn’t think Erik or Emma had read that chapter. He didn’t plan on quoting it to them, though.

The salve that she was using smelt pleasantly fresh and herbal, if unfamiliar. Charles guessed it was of Genoshan origin.   
“This should promote healing, and help reduce your scarring.” Emma said, above him. Charles tensed, briefly, at the idea of his scars. Erik took one of Charles’ feet into his grasp and began to massage it, gently.  
“Is this good?” he said, carefully.  
“Mmm.” Charles said, and tried not to drool. Pleased, Erik reached for his other foot. Charles smiled into his pillow, and then groaned as Emma’s fingers traced down his spine, forcing him further into relaxation, rib and vertebrae by rib. 

“Does that hurt?” Erik said, suddenly. Charles opened his eyes, muzzily. Erik sounded… worried.  
“No, sir…” he mumbled, also into his pillow. Emma pinched his leg, not hard enough to bruise. Charles opened his eyes again.   
“Excuse me, there. Do we have to have this talk again, my darling? We’re Erik and Emma, remember? No sirs or ma’ams here, thank you."   
“Sorry…”  
“So, we’ll all go and meet the Ambassador tomorrow.” Erik said. Charles listened, sleepily. He didn’t feel the need to do anything more.

“Right.” Emma said. “And the tailor with call in the afternoon, for your measurements, Charles.”   
“Tailor?” That wasn’t a whine, Charles thought, as Erik chuckled.  
“Clothes.” Emma said, patiently. “You need more.”  
“Got… three outfits.” Charles pointed out, as she began working on his neck.  
“For now.” Emma said, brightly. “Can you roll over?”  
Charles’ eyes snapped open.  
“I, I um.” He stuttered, anxious again.

Emma’s hands had started by soothing his aches and pains, true. But his treacherous body had clearly reacted to the feeling of his own nudity, and Emma’s skin on his skin inappropriately. He was more than half hard, and as Emma had insisted on Charles being naked, there was no way he was going to be able to hide it.  
“Here, let me.” Erik said, and then there were broad hands at Charles’ shoulder and hip, rolling him over. Charles tried to curl up, but it was no use. His errection was extremely visible.  
“Sorry.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

“What for?” Emma said, curiously. “It’s to be expected.” Erik’s hands didn’t leave their hold on Charles. He leant into the feeling of Erik next to him on the bed, his presence reassuring and steady.  
“Um.” Charles said. “I- thought this was supposed to be, ah medicinal?” Erik began running a gentle hand up and down Charles’ flank. Emma smiled.  
“If you’d prefer it that way, certainly.” She said straightforwardly, as Charles uncurled. Erik’s other hand twitched, and Charles gasped. “Erik!” Emma said, briskly. “Let him make his mind up alone.” The hand stilled.

“What’s the difference?” Charles said, curiously. Emma smiled, wide and wicked and touched him, purposefully. Erik’s hand twitched again. Charles gasped and shuddered.  
“That.” She said.   
“Call it research, if you like?” Erik said, amused.  
“But, what about you?” Charles said, reluctantly.  
“You can research us later.” Erik promised, bending over to kiss him. Emma’s hand moved again, and Charles gasped, arching into the kiss.  
“Please?” Charles said, not sure if he was asking for more for himself now, or for a chance to research later.  
“Of course.” They both said at once. Charles smiled. And relaxed into their care, willingly.

“Don’t strain yourself. You don’t want to undo all of our wife’s hard work.” Erik said, as his hands moved over Charles’ suddenly tense body. Charles squirmed, deaf to spoken words.  
“That’s right Charles.” Emma said, her oiled hands wonderful on his aching hardness. “Just let it go.” She punctuated each word with a firm stroke “Let it all go.”  
Erik kissed Charles’ neck and his ear whilst he toyed with Charles’ chest, lazily. Charles moaned, so Erik repeated his touches, and Emma’s hands moved, holding him tight, so _tight_ and so _good._

“O-ooh” Charles moaned, softly again. Emma smiled at Erik and proceeded to do _something_ with her wrist that made Charles nearly scream. Challenged by this, Erik retaliated, nibbling below on Charles' sensitive neck and pinching Charles’ nipples again. The ripples of pleasure from Erik’ touch washed over Charles, merging with the waves Emma was busy creating, into one great crashing flood that swept him away completely. He jerked, spine bending like a bow and came, held steady by their sure grip.

 

Too late, Charles remembered he had not taken his telepathic dampers at lunchtime.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has a panic attack, and finally learns how Erik and Emma feel about him.
> 
> Emma starts plotting. We should all be afraid.

Emma felt Charles’ pleasure wash through her as he climaxed, and it brought her to her own peak, which was… unexpected. She shared a smile with Erik, who looked rather as if he had been hit on the head with a club. Clearly Charles’ broadcast had caught him up, too. That meant it must have been strong. Charles’s… inexperience with shared physical delights made for a refreshing echo in the sensations he was (presumably accidentally) broadcasting. Marko had said his stepson was a telepath; although Emma had seen no sign of it before. It had been another sign that he would fit in well in their marriage, at least once he had settled his nerves. 

Emma tried to fight back a slight feeling of smug satisfaction. They hadn’t been able to get Charles to the point of complete loss of control last night; clearly this time had gone better for him. _Good._ Charles deserved all the pleasures he could be given.  
 _Perhaps it’s a sign he’s starting to relax around us._ Erik said, quietly. Emma hoped so. Charles was quiet for a moment. Emma moved to stroke his hair back from his forehead, and gasped as a cold and cloying wave of _fearguiltshame_ spilled out from her new spouse. These were not at all the kind of feelings Emma wanted to pick up from her spouses after making love. Something was very wrong.

“Charles?” Erik said, alarmed. “Charles, what’s, what’s wrong?” Emma sat up.  
“Sorry.” Charles muttered, feverishly. His eyes were squeezed shut. “Sorry.” He began to shake, teeth chattering, as if he was very cold. Erik dragged the thick woollen rug up from the foot of the bed and covered him with it. It didn’t appear to help. This was not some physical chill to be fought. Charles was _terrified._  
 _Charles, what is it?_ Emma said, sharply. The other telepath flinched back from her mental query, mind attempting to flee her perception even as his body curled into a foetal ball.  
“Hey, hey, everything’s all right.” Erik said, soothingly. Charles didn’t respond to the attempted comfort.

“Sorry.” He said again. “Didn’t mean to. Forgot. Sorry.” He was still shaking, Emma noted, almost absently, in her rising alarm. Shaking and crying, like a beaten child.  
“Flashback?” Erik said, aloud. Charles whimpered, lost in his panic. Erik tried to embrace Charles in reassurance, but the younger man refused to uncoil from his terrified ball. Erik’s eyes met hers, and there was genuine alarm in them.  
“I don’t know.” Emma said, quickly. “But I’m going to find out. Link with me?” Erik nodded. He held out his hand, and Emma grasped it. 

Erik tried to hold Charles’ hand next, but he had curled up with his hands between his belly and his thighs. Erik could not reach either of them without using force, and that was not something he thought Charles would be able to bear, in his current state. He laid a gentle hand on Charles’s left cheek instead. It was already wet with tears.  
 _Hurry up, wife!_ Erik demanded, frantically.  
 _Do not rush me in this, husband_ Emma flashed back, as she laid a matching hand on Charles’ right cheek.

**************

Charles felt his telepathic abilities leak past the fading damping drugs at the peak of his orgasm, and he panicked. It was irrational, and more connected to past memories than any of his current fears, but Charles still found he could not stop. He found himself beginning to tremble. He curled up, tightly, and waited for the pain to start, whispering frantic, pointless apologies he was sure would never be heard. Emma tried to talk to him, mind to mind, so he tried to be good, tried not to make contact that way. It didn’t help. He was still lost in the fear, the shame that came with not being able to behave properly.

Of course, the Lensherrs didn’t hit him immediately. Charles couldn’t feel reassured about that. They weren’t the type to try mindless violence. He had still leaked. He had leaked himself all over them, and they would be angry and disappointed and it would hurt and he didn’t want to go to the shielded room. Everything from the past few days crashed down over him again. He couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t talk, and couldn’t think. He could only lie there, and drown in his own fears, over and over. Real drowning would have been easier; at least it ended.

Dimly, Charles felt Erik and Emma laying hands on his face. He could still breathe, though, so he didn’t let himself get distracted. The shielded room awaited him, with it’s fasts and penances. Even if no one beat him and he got water and food, he didn’t think he could bear it, not there. There was no way he could endure this there. No way at all.  
 _Where is there?_ Emma inserted the question so deftly, Charles answered it before he thought about it.

 _The shielded room._ He thought of the long, choking hours in that space, buried alive, and shuddered again.  
 _Why would you go there?_ Erik’s voice, this time, but in his head, like Emma.  
 _Lost control._ Charles said, still wordless. _Forgot. So sorry. Won’t-_  
 _ **Stop.**_ Emma said, wordlessly. Charles found himself unable to disobey her. He stopped, and waited, almost without thought, for her next words.

 _You are not going into that room, or one like it, ever again._ she said. _Do you hear me, Charles Xavier-Lensherr-Frost?_   
He wasn’t?  
 _No._ Erik confirmed. _Why..._ his mental voice broke then, and Charles could feel the guilt and bewilderment in it. It stung.  
 _Why would you think we could do that to you?_ Erik said, at last. Charles felt his breathing slowing, a little. Of course, the Lensherrs were kind people. How had he forgotten that? He must have been overwhelmed by all the sudden changes. Charles bit his lip, ashamed.

 _It’s where I always go if I lose control._ He pointed out. _And I forgot to take the pill. I’m sorry. I think I panicked._ Why had he panicked?  
 _Explain, please._ Emma said, her feelings tight and unreadable.  
 _I... I forgot to take my damper. And I leaked._ Charles said. _I forgot, I’m sorry._  
 _You use drugs to control your telepathy?_ Erik said, curious inside Charles’ mind. Charles felt himself relax a little more. Emma slipped an arm round his shoulders.  
 _Kurt said I had to-_ he began. Erik growled.

Charles’ breathing hitched, at that, even though he could tell, through Emma’s link, that Erik was not angry with him. Erik wrapped an arm around him too, and squeezed, lightly. Charles uncurled a little more. Wordlessly, Emma soothed him, showing him things that must be impossible. She showed Charles her love for him, Erik’s love for him, fierce and protective and unyielding. Lovely, but impossible. They couldn’t see Charles like that, want him like that. No one could. Charles _wasn’t_ like that. Wasn’t how they saw him.

Charles felt his head shake.  
 _Not impossible at all, husband._ Erik said to him, gently. Aloud, he said  
“Of course we love you.” Emma echoed him, both speaking and telepathically.  
“Never doubt that, Charles. Please.” Charles took a deep breath, and then another. Cautiously and clumsily, he felt at their emotions, awed as his barely used telepathy informed him that they were real. Charles felt himself begin to cry again. But this time, this time, he was not afraid, or ashamed. This time, he was happy.

********************

It took a long time, even after he was calm again, but finally, Charles fell asleep, locked in the arms of his husband and his wife. Erik and Emma looked at each other, allowing their anger, their guilt and grief to surface. Charles was safely asleep, so they were unlikely to hurt him with their emotions, as long as they were careful.   
“Did you have any idea how bad it was?” Erik murmured, after a while. Emma shook her head. She knew she had failed Charles, badly, over this.  
“I knew something wasn’t quite right, but I thought he was just… nervous, excited about getting married.”

“He was.” Erik said, thoughtfully.  
“Yes, but this... this was building since we signed the papers.” Emma said. “I should have seen it. We overwhelmed him.”  
“You can’t see everything, wife.” Erik said, gently. “We didn’t have much option about the pacing of all this, that’s all on Kurt, as well. And I assumed that when Kurt said Charles had it under control, he didn’t mean drugs and, and, that dreadful room.”  
“I should have seen this.” Emma insisted. “I should have.” Erik squeezed her shoulder.

“Don’t waste time blaming yourself.” He said, briskly. Emma glared. “He’s asleep.” Erik pointed out. “When he wakes up you can find out if he prefers lessons in developing his telepathy or Kurt Marko’s bloody corpse laid on his doorstep.”   
“I prefer both.” Emma said. Erik smirked at her.  
“So do I, but this is about what Charles wants, isn’t it?” Erik said, lightly enough. Reluctantly, Emma nodded. Erik was right. Again.

Emma was going to kill Kurt Marko, though. Slowly. Possibly using a squid. Or Ambassador Logan. She’d start with his eyes and then maybe- No. She’d leave some of him for Erik to dismember. Erik, who currently wanted to pace around the room, in lieu of leaving their new spouse asleep whilst he killed said spouse’s stepfather. Charles murmured slightly, and Emma turned to him automatically. He was smiling in his sleep. She hugged him more tightly and watched as Charles snuggled down into her arms even further.  
“No.” Erik said. “You still have to share.”  
“Which?” Emma said “Charles or Kurt?”

“Both.” Erik said, firmly. “I favour giving him some tutelary dentistry to start with.”  
"I thought making him feel insects under his skin for a few days might soften him up." Emma said, thoughtfully. "Possibly then a repeated illusion or two?"  
"Of what?" Erik said, as he re settled himself around Charles.   
"Repeated castration without anaesthetic." Emma said, and Erik had to repress the tinest of flinches. They continued in this vein for a little while, spinning out imaginary, impossible deaths for Kurt, talking around the real reasons he deserved to suffer so.

“And we need to think about Raven.” Erik said, thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to hurt her, if it gets him what he wants, with Charles. With all of us.” And Erik was utterly determined to prevent Marko hurting Charles, directly or indirectly, ever again.  
“I’m on it.” Emma said, and smiled like one of Erik’s favourite knives. “I’m paying a social call to my new mother in law before we go on honey moon.”  
"Good." Erik said, with some satisfaction. "Let me know if you need help."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which not a lot happens. Logan meets the new spouse and gives his blessing. Charles finds something he truly, truly wants.

“So.” Ambassador James ‘the Wolverine’ Howlett said, with what appeared to Charles to be genuine pleasure. “You’re Charles Xavier. Good to meet the man behind the legend.”  
“I am.” He said back, trying not to smile too widely. He had been ashamed of his loss of control the day before, but Emma and Erik had reassured him that it was fine- he had become overwrought after two very demanding days.  
“No one has complained about an unexpected spontaneous orgasm, anyway.” Erik had said. “So either you didn’t broadcast very far, or they didn’t mind.”

“Hello.” Charles added, after a short pause. Erik put his hand on Charles’ knee, and Charles turned to smile at him. And then Emma had asked him if he wanted to learn not to need dampers. So they really didn’t mind. Not that Charles had many doubts left now. All he had to do, when uncertainty assailed him, was think back to the way Emma had showed him she and Erik felt about him. Him. Charles Xavier. Their spouse. Because they had both _married_ him, that last night in his stepfather’s house. He hadn't realised that until his melt-down, either.

“Welcome to Genosha, Charles Xavier.” The Ambassador said. “Kinda.” Emma rolled her eyes. Charles realised he was woolgathering, daydreaming about his spouses, and hurriedly returned his attention to the present moment.  
“Well, diplomatic Genosha, anyways, bub.” Logan qualified.  
“Thank you.” Charles said, earnestly. “That’s very kind of you.”  
“They treating you right?” Logan demanded next. Charles blinked.

“Ah, who?” Seemed like the safest answer. Charles hadn’t met any Genoshans yet, apart from Erik and Emma and the Ambassador Logan frowned. Charles tensed, a little.  
“Your spouses. You know, your husband, your wife?” Logan said, slowly, looking at Charles in some concern. “Those two people you’re holding hands and” – he sniffed- “playing more than footsies with?”  
“Oh!” Charles said, enlightened. “Oh, _yes_. Absolutely. No complaints here.” He smiled again, thinking about it. He was a married man. A bearer, but married. 

After a short pause, Emma cleared her throat, delicately.  
“Ambassador?” Logan waved her off.  
“Yeah, yeah.” He turned back to Charles. “You sure you did the right thing?” Erik glared. “Hey, I gotta ask.” The Ambassador protested. “Seems kinda silly when you’re all right here. Charles, you mind talking to me alone?”  
“I-“ Charles licked his lips. He was reasonably sure that the ambassador wouldn’t hurt him, even if he got him really angry, but the man had foot long claws made of metal, for heaven’s sake.

“Um.” He said again. “If that’s, if you insist, sir.” Logan’s face creased. Erik’s hand tightened on Charles’ knee, reassuringly.  
“We’ll be right outside.” He said.  
 _What if that’s not close enough?_ Charles said, anxiously.  
 _It will be._ Erik said, firmly. Logan grinned.  
“Promise I don’t bite.” He looked reflective. “Well. Not the married ones.”  
 _Well done for using your telepathy._ Emma said. _You broadcast that to just us two beautifully._ Charles grinned at his hands.

They left, Emma staring at the Ambassador in such a way as to make Charles think she was either reading his mind or threatening him. He didn’t look very scared, though.  
“Right then.” Logan said. “Gotta ask again- you happy with them?”  
“They really married me, you know.” Charles said, more to himself than anyone else.  
“Uh, yeah?” Logan said, warily. “Kinda why you’re in this meeting.”  
“They didn’t have to.” Charles said, earnestly. “But they did anyway.” He smiled again, just from the thought.

“Ok, good.” Logan muttered to himself. “You know that makes you a Genoshan citizen, right?”  
“Really?” Charles said, intrigued. He didn’t know that much about marriage. He’d never expected it to apply to him.  
“Yep.” Logan said, crisply. “Whole new set of rights and responsibilities.” Charles sat forward. That sounded interesting. “Might want to look into that.” Logan added.  
“Can you recommend any books?” Charles said, hopefully.  
“Ask your husband.” Logan said, easily.

Erik was Charles’ husband. The thought warmed him, all over again. Charles smiled to himself.  
“Sorry, what?” he said, politely, when he realised he'd drifted off again. Logan rolled his eyes.  
“I guess we’ll have to meet again, maybe when you’ve got through the honeymoon fuzzies.” He said, not unkindly.  
“I’m sorry.” Charles said. The Ambassador shrugged.  
“S’all right, kid.” he said, kindly. “We all get the warm fuzzies at the start of a relationship. Part of the fun.”

“Oh.” Charles said, thoughtfully. The Ambassador sounded like he was talking from personal experience. “Are you married, sir?” Logan looked away.  
“Not right now.” Charles decided not to ask more questions about that. It seemed a sensitive subject.  
“Well.” Logan said, finally. “I’m pretty sure you’re happy about being married. Pretty sure you’re in your right mind, too- just about. Hard to be sure, right now.” Charles had to admit, he had a point. He’d never been so shatteringly happy in his entire life. 

Grinning, the Ambassador raised his voice, and yelled   
“Get back in here!” Charles managed not to jump. He didn’t like shouting. Probably never would.  
 _And that’s just fine, darling._ Emma said into his head, as she and Erik returned. _I also dislike shouting._  
“Do we have your blessing, sir?” Erik said, politely.   
“Does that really matter to you?” Logan laughed. “That’s a change.” Erik looked bored.

“Not to me, no, but I don’t want to have to keep hurting people who would make things difficult for Charles. If you give this- give us your countenance, it makes things easier.” He smiled at Charles, bathing him in his affectionate regard. Charles blushed, and wriggled innhis seat, embarrased, but happy.  
“You don’t have to hurt anyone.” Charles pointed out. He didn’t want Erik getting into trouble because of him.  
“If they’ve hurt you, schatze? Believe me, I do.” Erik said, and smiled again.  
“Not if the rest of us get there first.” Emma and Logan said, together, smirking.

Charles gazed at his hands, folded neatly between his knees. He felt… awkward. Unpractised at being liked. He wasn’t sure what to do.  
“Go on, get out of here.” Logan said, happily. “It’s eleven, time for my mid morning beer.”  
“Going, sir.” Erik said, wryly, and stood.  
“Getting, sir.” Emma said, offering a hand to Charles. He popped up immediately, and hurried out after his spouses, nodding politely to the Ambassador as they left.

“He seemed nice.” Charles said, thoughtfully, a little later.  
“Did he?” Emma said, brightly. “That’s unusual.”  
“He said I ought to learn more about being a Genoshan citizen.” Charles said. “Um, Erik?” Erik slowed his steps, turning to look at his younger spouse.  
“What is it?”  
“Do you have a, a book I could borrow? About that?” Charles said, hopefully. Erik grinned like a knife.  
“This way.”

 

Charles stared. This wasn’t just _one_ book. This was a lot of books. A whole _room_ of books. The bookshelves started at floor level and went all the way up to the ceiling, all the way around the room. Even the desks and chairs had books piled on them.  
“Are these all yours?” he said, astounded.   
“Oh, they started out as Erik’s, mostly.” Emma said, amused at the naked delight on Charles’s face. “I couldn’t take any of mine abroad.”

Charles stared some more.  
“What are they all about?” he asked, eagerly. “Is there one on citizenship?” Erik scratched the back of his neck, trying to remember the contents of the library.  
“Probably. There’s books on all kinds of things.” he said, slowly, watching as Charles made eager little runs from one shelf to the next. Charles found a book he liked the look of and picked it up, gently.

“Why did we let it get so dusty in here?” Emma said. “I’ll have to speak to the staff.”  
“Why aren’t they in order?” Charles said, sternly. “Look, you’ve got Essex’s _On Reproduction and Marriage_ next to Wyngard’s _Illusionary Numbers in Mathematics._ ” Charles frowned. “And all these engineering texts should be by themselves, not jammed in like this.” He gave the books a quick, reassuring pat. It wasn’t their fault they were disorderly.  
“We usually use the embassy library, I suppose.” Emma said, amused.

Charles found another book he wanted to read, and added it to the pile.  
“This one’s upside down!” he said, scandalised. “And somebody’s left a book mark in it.” Erik shuffled his feet. Charles stopped, and drew a deep breath.  
“Can I… would you mind if I tidied up in here, sometime? A little?” he said, uncertainly. Emma and Erik beamed at each other. Charles was asking for something. Something they were able to give him.  
“Of course you can.” Erik said. “They’re yours.”  
“Happy Morning-Gift, darling.” Emma said. 

Charles beamed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The library is almost finished. Hank is glad. Erik makes sure Charles takes a load off his feet.
> 
>  
> 
> The author is shot for her terrible puns. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, sex, library books.

Charles whistled, cheerfully. The books were now dust free, and in the right piles. He just had to get them back on the shelves in the right order. That wasn’t a problem per se, until one considered actually getting them to some of the shelves in question.  
“Are-are you sure this is alright?” Hank said, nervously, from the foot of the ladder. His ears flicked, like a cats’, in his anxiety.  
“Yes; of course the biology texts should go up here.” Charles said, happily. The ladder creaked. Hank looked at it in horror.  
“I meant, the ladder.” Hank said. “Mr Lennsherr-Frost was, um, very _fervent_ in his instructions to me-“ Charles looked down at him.

“Oh, Erik just worries too much, with Emma away, that’s all.” He said, reassuringly. “These books are almost the last.” he reached across and shoved another in. “And then the whole room will be completely sorted out!” He beamed. Hank broke into a reluctant smile and shuffled his great blue feet. He rather liked the shorter Westchestrian. At first, everyone had been agog to see who had captured the hearts of Erik and Emma. The couple were formidable in their own right; they had wondered who had been deemed worthy- and had not run away screaming- to become their Third Spouse. What masterful being could cope with _both_ of the Double-Es? Surely he or she must be an amazing soul.

Even Hank, pressed into service by Ambassador Logan as medical advisor and semi-reluctant spy by his colleagues, had been surprised when he met Charles. Charles Xavier-Lennsherr-Frost had not at all been as he had been imagined. Charles was not some ferociously muscly soul, dripping with weaponry and capable of keeping up with Erik, and he wasn’t some ruthless, Machiavellian plotter capable of keeping up with Emma, either. Charles was _shy._ Charles was sweet, and thoughtful and very fond of books. Charles said “Thank you.” when Hank volunteered to help with the books he had apparently received as his morning-gift. He hadn’t even blinked at Hank’s feet, or his fur, or his fur.

When they met, Hank tense as always to meet an outsider, Charles simply had said “Hello.”, shaken Hank’s paw, and asked him if he thought Essex’s _On Population._ belonged with religion or in social comment. And he’d laughed when Hank had suggested that Essex’s works belonged, like their writer, in an asylum. Hank found it refreshing; a _lot_ of Westchestrians had issues with the visibly mutant; to the point where the Ambassador had had to write Hank a travel pass declaring him (a) sentient (b) human (c) no great threat to life and limb. Charles didn’t even appear to be aware Hank might be a threat to him.

Of course, the man was married to Erik and Emma, and appeared to be enjoying his situation _immensely._. He presumably had a high tolerance for life threatening individuals. Or perhaps, Hank thought, worriedly eyeing Charles’ perch on the ladder, he had no great care for his own safety. Or perhaps he had a secondary mutation like Logan’s.  
“Charles!” he said, urgently. “Please don’t fall off that ladder, Mr E will kill me, and Mrs E will do it twice.” Charles looked over at Hank, and smiled. He climbed down the ladder. Hank breathed out. His calculated his chanes of getting out of the room alive had increased by 23%

“You really don’t need to worry so much, Hank.” Charles said, patting Hanks’ arm. “My spouses-” He flushed. “Are both lovely, lovely people.”  
“It’s good to hear you say so, my heart.” Erik said, from where he was lounging in the doorway, lethally. Hank jumped. Charles beamed brightly at his husband, who promptly strode into the room, and –Hank tried not to watch- examined his tonsils, leisurely. Charles kissed him back just as willingly.  
“Hello, Husband.” Charles said, eventually. “Thanks to Hank here” -he flashed Hank a quick, bright smile- “We’re almost done. Your library-“  
 _”Your library.”_ Erik grumbled softly. Charles ignored him.  
“Is almost ready.” Charles said happily. He raised his hand to his temple. Erik waited, patiently.

“Um.” Hank said. “Maybe I should-“ Erik’s gaze snapped to him. Charles smiled, eyes shut.  
“Emma says, thank you for taking care of me.” He said, opening his eyes and looking towards Hank. Hank frowned.  
“Isn’t, ah, um, your wife…”  
“Out of town?” Charles said. “She’s in Newingtonbury, yes. But I’ve been practicing my telepathy“  
“That’s two day's journey! She can reach that far?” Hank breathed, fascinated. Charles flushed. Erik pulled him in close, wrapping an arm around his waist.  
“Well, no. But… it appears I can.” He said, quietly. Hank’s jaw dropped.

“Wow.” He breathed, entranced. “Did- did you always have that range, or did it-“  
“McCoy.” Erik said, dangerously. Hank flinched.  
“Oh, Erik, I’m fine.” Charles said, distressedly. “I, um, I haven’t been off the dampers long, so… I really couldn’t tell you.” Hank gaped some more. Erik glared at him.  
“Oh.” Hank said. “Well… Congratulations?” he smiled, remembering too late that it will show all his fangs, but Charles didn’t appear notably distressed. Possibly, being married to Erik, he has no fear of teeth.  
“Yes. Well done, darling.” Erik purred. He looked at Hank, meaningfully. Hank made his excuses and fled. 

“You don’t need to terrorise everyone I meet.” Charles said, breathlessly. Erik grinned down at him.  
“I don’t need to, no.” He said, sliding his hands under Charles’ behind, and squeezing as he lifted. Charles yelped, and wrapped his legs around Erik’s waist.  
“I just.” He rumbled into Charles’s ear. “Enjoy it.” He glanced at the door. Obediently it swung shut and the lock melted closed.  
“R-r-really?” Charles’ eyes slid closed as Erik kissed his ear, sucking on the earlobe.  
“Yes. Anything that makes you feel happier. Or safer.” Erik said, striding towards the largest chair.

“I- you mean that.” Charles said, in wonder. “I can _feel_ you mean that.” Erik sat in the armchair, and arranged Charles’ legs to his satisfaction.  
“I do, indeed.” He said. “Want to turn round?” Charles flushed, pinkly, and dropped his eyes.  
“Here?” he squeaked, even as he shifted to sit on Erik’s lap, leaning against his chest.  
“The door is closed and locked.” Erik promised him “And I’m sure the books don’t mind.” Dumbly, Charles started to fumble with his breeches. He could feel Erik’s interest in the proceedings rising. Along with his own.  
“I have oil.” Erik said, and unlaced his own trousers, shoving them to his knees. Charles blinked and shivered in anticipation. Erik and Emma always made him feel so _good_ , together or separetely.

Slowly, after careful preparation of Charles, Erik slicked up his cock and slid home inside his husband. Charles groaned in pained pleasure, curving against Erik’s bracing arm.  
“All right?” Erik said, concernedly into his hair.  
“Oh, _yes._ ” Charles said. “As long as you move soon.” He wrapped a hand around his cock. Erik took it away, even as Charles whined.  
“B-brace yourself.” Erik said. “On the arms.” Charles did as he was told. Erik began to move, and Charles moaned.  
“P-please, Erik, I need-“ he began to babble.  
“I know.” Erik grunted, and wrapped one of his own hands around Charles’ cock. 

Erik stroked from root to tip and felt Charles clench around him as he did. The soft flutters of contraction as Charles tightened and relaxed around him felt almost unearthly. It took very little to bring Charles to the peak of his pleasure. Erik stroked him in the same rhythm as he moved his hips, and Charles writhed, babbled nonsensically for a short while, and came, crying out in delight. As now happened frequently, the telepath’s broadcast of his pleasure- the physical sensations far outweighed by Charles’ s joy and his love, as usual- tipped Erik over, too. He grunted, explosively and came, in a hot rush. Charles hissed in satisfaction.  
“Think anyone overheard us?” Erik said, as Charles sagged, dazedly, on his lap.  
“I didn’t shout this time.” Charles said, shyly pleased. “Only to you, and Emma.”  
“Emma, hmm?” Erik said.  
“Yes. She says to tell you we both owe her.” Charles said, blushing slightly. 

Erik grinned.

"Tell her I'm looking forwards to when she collects on that."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has a bad day and comes to some uncomfortable realisations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has some unpleasant thoughts about how to manage his wife, which are essentially domestic abuse. This whole chapter is from Kurt's POV, and he is a vile, vile little man.

Kurt Marko was not a happy man. A small investment; that had been guaranteed to bring in high returns, had failed, completely. That had left him short on capital. His ingrate lout of a son, Cain, had compounded the problem by gambling quite heavily; which Kurt would not have cared about; except he had lost a large amount of money; and had then accused the other gamblers of cheating. Kurt had to send him off out of the city on a repairing lease until the scandal died down. Cain had grumbled, but had settled for an expansive tour of far-away country houses they could not afford to buy, rather than the cheaper lodgings in a quiet country village Kurt had urged on him. Kurt didn’t bother telling him the houses were out of the Marko purchase range; it was only temporary. 

That’s what he’d told Sharon, when they’d sold off the country house all those years ago; that it was temporary. And he was sticking to it. Sooner or later he’d make a recovery, and make himself as rich as Brian Xavier had been. Richer, even. Sooner or later. Any minute now. This was just a small set back, not a big thing. Kurt was as gifted, as good at business as old Brian had been. Brian had just been luckier, that was all. He’d gotten the deals first, the rewards first, even the woman first, but Kurt was smart- he’d got them last, and all the sweeter for waiting. Even if Sharon was a bit past her best; Kurt _had_ her.

Not that having Sharon was all that rewarding. Kurt thought, as he gazed down at her drunken, comatose face, he honestly could no longer remember what Brian had said he’d seen in her. All Kurt had seen in her was another trophy for his wall, another prize to say he’d made it big, finally. Sharon let out a whistling snore. Kurt snorted and turned away. Restless, worried and frustrated, Kurt looked around for someone to blame or someone to hit. Of course, his preferred target, Charles wasn’t there, now- he was living in the lap of foreign luxury. Well, he could always deal with him later. 

Kurt went looking for Raven’s tutor, to check up on her learning and behaviour. Suddenly, he realised, he could no longer remember the last time he’d seen his daughter. Of course, he’d been too busy to think much about her, but he usually aw her every day or so, at breakfast or lunch. He’d always known Charles kept an eye her, too much of a one in his books, but still. Had the brat started to avoid him, now? He shook his head, and hurried to the schoolroom, in the attics next to the night nursery.

She wasn’t there.

Her tutor wasn’t there, either. The rooms were tidy, but covered with a fine layer of dust, as if the girl hadn’t been there in weeks. Kurt stared. Had she been sent to a school, or to stay at some playmates’? Anger rose in him. Raven was _his._ His daughter, his potential resource. If she’d been sent away, he should have done it; picked the best school with the right kids attending, so he could meet their parents; negotiated with the playmates’s parents to make sure the Markos got their advantages and their recognition out of it. Angrily, he stormed back to his wife.

Who was still in her drunken stupor. _Godsdamnit_

Kurt snarled and stormed towards his study. He was angry, but he had to hold his hand for the moment- not something he enjoyed, as a way of passing the time. A good drink would have to do; at least until Sharon came round and he could deny her the laudanum and medicines she usually craved after getting blackout drunk, until she told him where Raven was. It wouldn’t take long; it never did. Kurt grunted to himself in disgust, and poured himself a whiskey. Woman had no willpower. Never had any worth speaking of. She must have passed it on to Charlie; damn kid was always so easy to bruise and bend. He’d better watch himself after he popped out the Lehnnsherr brat, and they sent him back.

Somebody knocked on the door.  
“What?” he snarled, venomously. The door opened to reveal the housekeeper/cook- Sarah, he thought her name was. Usually she talked to Sharon.  
“I-I’m sorry, sir” she said, staring at the floor. “It’s about the grocery bills again. Kurt bit down on an impulsive desire to hit her.  
“Told you last month- charge it to the Xavier bearing account.” Kurt said. “I said, get the tutor-“  
“Your lady wife released Mr Hareton from his duties last month.” Sarah said, awkwardly. 

“Permanently.” Kurt said, not quite questioning. His eyes narrowed, dangerously. How dared Sharon do that, without asking him? No wonder she’d been able to get so drunk so often, lately. She’d been drinking the tutor’s salary, cunning sot that she was. Kurt made a note to make sure she knew exactly how he felt about not being informed, when she was awake again. The handy thing about Sharon- needing her drink like she did, he’d never had to leave bruises.  
“Yes.” Sarah said, brightly. “She said, now Mr Charles and his people were taking care of Raven-“ She saw the expression on Kurt’s face and stopped talking, sharply. 

Kurt thought rapidly. Servants gossiped; and he had no desire to be bruited about as the man so stupid he hadn’t realised his daughter had moved out of the house, even temporarily. It wasn’t as if he didn’t still have rights over the girl. He was her father, after all. In Westchester, these crazy Genoshans, would soon learn, that counted for just about everything. He was Raven’s guardian; they couldn’t marry her off or keep her from him unless they wanted to wade through a _world_ of shit, and he doubted Charlie’s ass was that fine a reward.

“Yeah. Let them pay for her learning stuff, if they want.” He said, at length. Sarah said nothing. Kurt took a gulp of the whiskey.  
“Anyway, sir- the accounts?” she said, again, slowly. Kurt frowned.  
“I said-“  
“I know, sir, but the thing is, I can’t.” Sarah said, softly. “Since- Since Mr Charles-“  
“You have his signature, on the papers!” Kurt snapped.  
“They won’t- they won’t take it anymore.” Sarah said, backing away as Kurt stamped across the floor.

“What?”  
“I don’t understand, sir, I really don’t. But the grocer and the butcher said they got letters saying the charges weren’t authorised; and when I asked at the bank; they said, there’s been a change in guardians- I told you last month.” Kurt racked his brains and dimly remembered brushing off her complaining. Sarah kept on complaining.  
“And now your lady wife has given me this weeks’ menus, and I can’t order in what we need; because half our shops have stopped delivering, there’s only two meals left in the house, and I don’t know where the money’s to come from to pay for last months bills-“

“Well, what about the general bearers account?” Kurt said, furious as a sudden certainty possessed him. Sarah looked confused.  
“Sir- that’s been empty since Brian Xavier passed, I think. Why-“  
“Because that’s where the Lehnnsherrs are supposed to be paying their rent money in!” Kurt snapped. Sarah looked shocked. Referring to bearing contract payments as “rent” was extremely vulgar. Kurt thought it was no more than the truth. 

Rent- of a womb, was precisely what was going on, when one party paid another so get at their bearing men and try for some kids. The fact that it was only rent was why he had no truck with it; even though that had left him with only one kid worth much.Kurt kept everything he had to pay for. Everything. He might rent out some things that belonged to him, but that was- Wait.  
“Wait.” He said, slowly. “You’re telling me there have never been any payments there, for Charles’ allowances?” Sarah nodded. Kurt grinned a hard, humourless grin. He scribbled out a draft on his business account, and flung it at Sarah.

“Use this, for now.” He said to her. “I’ll sort this out tomorrow.” He had a pretty good idea of what was going on, now. First Charles. Then Raven. Finally, the money. 

The Lehnnsherrs were thieves. They hadn’t _ever_ really been interested in kids, which explained the mistakes they’d made- talking to Charles first; not caring about the payments they’d agreed to. They were after Kurt Marko’s money. Charles and Raven were just how they were going to take it- although sampling whatever Charlie had to offer had probably sweetened the pot. He’d never be able to remarket the boy as virgin goods _now._ Kurt ground his teeth.

No one stole from Kurt Marko. _No one._


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven settles into her new life. There are lessons in History, trust, and SCIENCE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please brush your teeth after reading. May cause cavities.

Raven liked staying with Charles; she hoped they would let her visit forever. Carefully, she dipped her spoon in her porridge. Breakfast at the Lehnnsherrs was so much nicer than breakfast at home ever was. They ate funny foods, sometimes, because they were from Genosha, but not at breakfast. And no one stole all the bacon, like Cain used to. Charles winked at her and made a funny face, across the table. Raven glanced anxiously at Tante Emma and Uncle Erik, but neither of them seemed to notice, because no one got slapped.  
 _No one is going to slap you._ Charles said, into her head.  
“But what about _you_ , Charles?” Raven said, out loud, and clapped her hands over her mouth. Telepathy was _bad._ Kurt said so, and it alway got Charles punished. Still no one got slapped. Charles looked at the Lehnnshers and smiled. They smiled back.

“No one’s slapping me, either.” He said, calmly. Tante Emma ran her hand over his hair, gently. Chalres tiled his head into her hand and smiled. Uncle Erik looked at Raven. She shifted uneasily, trying to hide her anxieties.  
“Did you think we would slap you? What for?” Raven looked down at her plate.  
“Charles made a face.” She said and poked her porridge. “Cain doesn’t like faces.” She wasn’t going to get Charles into trouble about talking in her head, if she could help it.  
“Cain’s not here.” Charles said, gently.  
“Cain is never going to be here.” Uncle Erik said, firmly. “Ever.”  
“Promise?” Raven said. That would be nice, to know that she could be Cain-free whenever she visited.

All the adults nodded, firmly. Raven grinned.  
“Raven.” Tante Emma said, then, wiping her mouth and pushing away her plate. “You aren’t visiting.” Uncle Erik nodded. Charles smiled fondly at them both.  
“But I’m right here.” Raven said, confused.  
“Visting.” Uncle Erik said, his eyes almost twinkling. “Implies you’re going away again.”  
“They like to keep whatever they get their hands on, these two.” Charles said, seriously.  
 _Really? They don't mind me being here?_ Raven said, sharply, into Charles’s head.  
 _Really._ He said back.  
“They’re keeping me.” Charles said aloud. Uncle Erik snorted.  
“Charles, we married you. You have to keep us, too. Raven is a lucky bonus.” 

Raven stumbled out of her chair and ran to Uncle Erik, hugging him fiercely round the neck. He laughed, and then handed her over to Tante Emma, who also wanted a hug. Then, of course, Charles demanded his hug, and breakfast was left to itself for a while. Raven tried to curl up in Charles’s lap, although she was really a bit big for it now. Mother kept telling her she was a big girl, too big to keep bothering her, all the time. The hugging was interrupted by a knock on the door. The blue furry man Raven had been introduced to before, poked his head round the door, and said, nervously.  
“Uh… Mr Lensherr? Ambassador Logan said you needed some help?” Uncle Erik grinned, like a wolf, or a shark or something else very scary and nice.  
“Raven?” he said, gently. She nodded, uncurling. “Please say hello to your new tutor.” Charles giggled. Emma smiled.

Hank looked very, very worried.

 

“Raven; are you sure you’re comfortable up there?” Hank said, worriedly.  
“Sure!” Raven said, happily. “You’re snuggly!” Hank sighed a little, and shifted his shoulders. Raven was not weightless. But she seemed so happy up there, on his shoulders.  
“Giddyap!” Raven said, laughing. Hank obediently trotted a little faster. He was beginning to regret his shiny idea of introducing Raven to Genoshan history by taking her through the portrait galleries. He stopped in front of his favourite portraits. A tall man, wrapped in purple and scarlet robes stared down at them.  
“Now, here we have Max Eisenhardt, the Liberator- have you heard of him? He fought many battles to declare Genoshan independence.”  
“He looks like Uncle Erik.” Raven said, after a critical pause. Hank smiled.  
“Well, they are related. Very distant cousins, I think.”  
“Really?” Raven perked up.  
“Max gave birth to Queen Anya Eisenhardt- she was-“  
“He’s a bearer?” Raven said, astonished.  
“Yes.” Hank said, carefully. “He was.”  
“But they made a painting of him and you said he fought and everything!” Raven said. “Why was he was a Liberator?”

“In Genosha, we think about Bearing men differently.” Hank said, carefully. “We don’t hide them away like you do here in Westchester.“  
“Uncle Erik and Tante Emma are very nice to Charles.” Raven agreed. “They talk to him and everything.”  
“I should hope so.” Hank said, distractedly. “Ah- do you get on with them?”  
“They don’t hit people.” Raven said. “And they say I can stay.” She combed her fingers through Hanks’s hair.  
“That’s good?” Hank said, after a short pause. Raven stared at Max. He looked down his painted nose at her.  
“Charles likes them.” She told the painting. She looked at the top of Hank’s head. “I think… I think they might like him too.”

“They married him, kid. I think they more than _like_ him.” a gravelly voice said, from behind them. Hank whirled round. Raven squeaked and grabbed on harder. When she realised the new, short hairy man was the one that had spoken, she buried her face in Hank’s head fur. He looked scary.  
“Ambassador Logan!” Hank said, brightly. “We’re having a history lesson!”  
“I can see that.” The hairy man said. “Eisenhardt, huh?” Hank nodded.  
“I thought a simple beginning-“ The hairy man waved at him to be quiet. He tilted his bristly head back and stared at Raven. Slowly, she stiffened her spine and stared back. She was taller than him.

“So, kid, you enjoying your lessons? Learning about Genosha?” Raven nodded.  
“I like Genosha.” She said. A thought occurred to her. “It’s nicer than Westchester.” The hairy man grinned, almost as fiercely as Uncle Erik.  
“You’ve never been there, kid.”  
“Charles says that legally this building is Genosha.” She snapped back. “So I _have_. Sort of.”  
“And you like this place more than home, huh?” the hairy man said.  
“Of course! Nobody hits Charles or me, and-“ She faltered. She couldn’t put into words, the changes that had come over her brother since the Lehnnshers took him.

Charles was definitely taller, now. And he smiled less desperately. He spent a lot of time in the book rooms, and he wore nicer clothes. She didn’t know if he still had the bad dreams, because their rooms were a long way away from each other; but Uncle Erik and Tante Emma were often there when she came in to see him first thing. If he still had dreams they were waking him up from them and they knew to hug him till the shivering stopped. The nasty puffy bags under his eyes were gone, too. And Raven hadn’t had to use her stash of wound powder and bandages _once._

“I get it, kid.” The hairy man said. “I do.” He looked at Hank for a moment. “Getting tired, there, bub?” Raven felt guilty. She shuffled her way across Hanks’ very broad shoulders, and slid down his back.  
“Oh, no, not at all-“ Hank said, faintly. He looked down at Raven surprised. She squinted up at him.  
“Good time to disturb the lovebirds?” the hairy man said. Raven frowned.   
“You’re supposed to be kind to animals.” She said, reprovingly.   
“Ah, no sir. I don’t, that is I think-“ Hank said, fur bristling in embarrassment. The hairy man snorted with laughter.

“Guess I’ll ask you a few questions, then.” He said, and looked down at Raven. She stuck her chin up and glared at him, straight in the eyes. If he was like Cain or her parents he’d slap her for that, and then hopefully he wouldn’t be mean to Hank, and she could warn Charles later. She squared her shoulders. Hank put a gentle hand on her back. The hairy man squatted to look her in the eye. Raven fought off her instinctive flinch.  
“You happy here, kid?” he said, slowly, looking at her sharply.  
“Yes.” She said. “Sir.” She added after a moment’s pause.  
“Not missing your Mom or anything?” he persisted, awkwardly. Raven’s eyebrows rose. Clearly, he’d never met Sharon or Kurt.

“No. Sir.” She said. “I’m a big girl now.” She was. She was very nearly nine, after all. The hairy man smiled.  
“Mom said so all the time!” She said, firmly. “Old enough to take of myself and not bother her or anything.” It was funny, feeling Hank wince, behind her.  
“The Xavier-Lensherr-Frosts are looking after her pretty well.” He said, above her head. Raven nodded, firmly.  
“That so?” the hairy man said.  
“I get to see them every day!” Raven said. “Even when they’re busy!” The hairy man snorted again.

“They said…” Raven said, slightly wary. “They said…”  
“What, kid?” He prompted her, patiently. Raven gathered her nerve.  
“Uncle Erik said I wasn’t visiting, ‘cause I was staying, was he being true? Please, was he?” Raven said, all in one breath. The hairy man rocked back, slightly, on his heels.  
“Do you want to stay? You might have to move to Genosha.” He said, cheerily.  
“ _Please._ ” Raven breathed. “Yes, oh, please. If we go there, Kurt won’t be able to hit Charles anymore. And Cain won’t be able to tease me.”  
“Huh.” The hairy man scratched his head. “Erik’s usually telling the truth. You know, if he’s breathing.”

“Charles says Genosha has a lot of libraries, too.” Raven added, in case that had seemed too rude, more to do with being away from Westchester than in Genosha. “And nice places. I’d like to see them.”  
“Yup.”  
“Hank said he’d tell me all about it.” Raven said, happily, trying to get away from tricky things. The hairy man laughed again as he straightened up.  
“I’m her new tutor.” Hank said. “So we’re beginning at the beginning.”  
“Genoshan history?”  
“And languages and customs and SCIENCE.” Raven said, helpfully.  
“Can’t forget the Science.” The hairy man says. “Hank? Come talk to me later.” He wanders away. Raven waves goodbye at him.

He doesn’t wave back, but Raven doesn’t care. He said Uncle Erik was telling the truth.  
“Hank?” she said, hopefully.  
“Yes, Raven?”  
“Can you tell me more about Max the libralator?”  
“Liberator.”  
“Yes, him.” Hank took a deep breath. And then a thought seemed to hit him. He scooped Raven up and deposited her on his broad shoulders again.  
“Max was born in…”

And the lessons continued.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt reaches snapping point. The Xavier-Lensherr-Frosts have laid their plans.

The banks were lying to him. Had to be. There was no way, no way that what the Lennsherrs were doing was legal. Kurt knew this, even as a spasm of unease shook him as he marched down the street. Cash was so tight now, he didn’t dare take a cab; and Sharon was using the carriage, on one of her very lengthy, very dull but-oh-so-necessary for keeping up appearances rounds of visiting. He hadn’t really ever thought of how much of the money that kept the Marko household running came from the Xavier trust account Brian had left for his bearer son. Charles had been in his keeping; and would never say boo to a bubble; let alone a goose.

Now he was not under Kurt’s thumb, and neither was half the family money. Bad enough, that the grocery orders had had to be reduced, but Kurt’s own business could have used a little extra cash flow right now, too; and he’d been counting on Charles’s allowance payments to cover that. He’d even been pleased the Genoshans hadn’t realised keeping Charles with them meant they could have bargained him down a bit. Lensherr had just drawn up the contract without quibbling over the price once. The contact wording had seemed mostly normal with a few legal phrases he’d ascribed to Genoshan legal requirements on relationship contracts. Anxious to make sure the whole thing was completed that night, Kurt hadn’t queried it.

He’d managed to slip in the part about the consummation being legally required, after all; although that had more been a case of not explaining that hiding it. Now, Kurt realised, they’d been playing him, letting him get away with a small victory because they had their eyes on a larger prize. He shook his head and glared at the great pile of architecture that was the Genoshan Embassy. Then he stepped forwards to the lazy porter lolling in his box, and told him he needed to speak to his stepson.  
“Who?” The porter asked, boredly, staring at his shoes.  
“Charles Xavier.” Kurt said, harshly, and tried not to glower. The porter sat up, sharply.  
“Charles _Xavier?_ ” he said, happily. “You’re related to the Lensherr-Frost’s Charles?”

“ _Step father._ ” Kurt hissed between his teeth. As if he’d admit to being the blood relative of a bearing man. The porter’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing Kurt could have construed as an insult.  
“I don’t… have a notification of your visit.” He said, carefully, after a pause that set Kurt’s blood boiling. Damned jack-in-offices; they always loved wielding their scrap of power.  
“And so?” he growled.  
“This is a diplomatic building, sir, I can’t let you in without-  
“Then take my card up to him, and tell him I want to see him!” Kurt cut him off. 

“Now!” he snapped as the porter opened his mouth to make some comment. The porter closed his mouth, stared at him for a moment, and silently held out his hand for the card. Kurt passed it over.  
It was one oif the last he'd been able to get printer, before the printer had demanded payment for his bills.  
“Please wait here, sir.” He said, mildly, and gestured Kurt to a tiny waiting area, with one worn chair and a dying plant propped in front of an ugly window. Kurt stamped into the room and took possession of the chair. He wished there was a fire in the grate, so he could burn something.

Time passed.

 

Charles was not panicking. Kurt was waiting for him, and he wasn’t running to meet him, but he was _not_ panicking. Quite.  
 _I’ve left the meeting. I’ll be there as soon as I can._ Erik said in his mind. _Wait for me._  
 _Erik; you’re still almost half an hour away!_ Charles pointed out. _We can’t leave him-_  
 _Yes we can._ Emma cut in. _Kurt Marko is nothing to you or us, now; he can’t have you back._ Charles could taste her determination in this; cold and sharp and relentless as a diamond drill.

 _Raven._ he said, quietly, and felt them both wince. _Exactly._ he added. Charles knew the claim they had on Raven’s custody was only based on Sharon’s agreement and Kurt’s indifference. Oh, there was the matter of Genoshan citizenship, but-  
 _Go for Plan B. I’ll be with you all the time._ Emma sent, briskly. Charles could still smell her self-disgust that she was still a day’s journey from the city.  
 _And I._ Erik said, still bristling with impatience. _Just don’t sign or agree to anything till I get there._ Charles drew in a deep breath, and straightened up. They had planned for this. It could work. Even without ERik and Emma, this could still work. He nodded at Hank and smiled at Raven.  
"Could you send him up, please?" he said to the porter, politely.

 

Kurt stared at his step son. He hadn’t seen the boy in three months; and he’d changed a lot since then, although, he thought, as he saw Charles flinch slightly, as he moved towards him, not in the important ways. Sure, he was wearing a fancy embroidered jacket, and sitting in a very fancy room full of fancy books, but he still knew Kurt was boss. The boy was alone, no Genoshans in sight. This was going to be _easy._   
“Raven, please tell Hank to bring us some tea.” Charles said, quietly, and Raven went, immediately, without even looking at Kurt for permission. Kurt blinked. That was new. Charles smiled, almost easily, and sat himself down at a desk, without waiting for Kurt.

Kurt sat in a chair almost immediately; he wasn’t going to stand when a bearer sat. He stared around the room at the books, and wondered who’d let Charlie in there. He smirked at Charles, who simply blinked back at him. Kurt drew in a breath. He had to handle this carefully. The way that the Lensherrs had taken Charles in and dressed him up probably meant he’d have a hard time just dragging the boy home and returning to the old status quo. But then, he thought, with a smirk, he’d never wanted Charles- only the money. And Charles would probably sign anything to get Kurt out of his nice new nest, and leave him alone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt gets some bad news, and reacts. All goes according to Plan B. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt is still not a nice man.

Silence fell in the library.  
Looking pretty snug there, boy.” Kurt said, eventually. “They got you knocked up yet?” He squinted at Charles’s mid section, hidden as it was by the desk. And there was always Raven available, as an extra lever.  
“What do you want?” Charles said, mildly. He drew a blank scrap of paper towards him and scribbled on it.  
“Now, that’s a bit blunt, for you, boy.” Kurt said. Charles glanced aside, and then he said, quietly.  
“Perhaps I’m finally learning from you, Mr Marko. I’ll say it again: Why are you here?”

“Well, it pains me to say it, boy, but that pretty pair who’re breeding you?” Kurt said, cheerfully. He decided to ignore the "Mr Marko." For now.   
“They’ve not been keeping up their share of the agreement. So you-“  
“Which part of it?” Charles said, cutting across Kurt, quickly.  
“Allowances.” Kurt said. “They’ve not been paying for your… services.” He leered, slightly. Charles jumped, as if poked, and then went slightly pink.  
“Oh, yes, they have.” He said, still blushing. “I have the account book, here.” Kurt stared at it.  
“That’s not the usual-“ He said, angrily, and then stopped. Clearly this had just been a Genoshan misunderstanding. “How do I access it?”

 

Charles smiled, sweetly, trying to hide his fear. Where _was_ Hank? Wordlessly, Emma brushed reassurance across his mind.   
“You don’t.” he said. “Erik and Emma pay in the sum you agreed for my support, of course; and I… I use it to support myself.” It was a very generous amount; of course, and Charles felt sure his early investments would be paying off quite soon. He looked forwards to re-investing the profits. It would feel a little less like pocket money, if he’d earned the returns himself. And then there were the monies in the Xavier trust funds to think about; although he still thought there ought to be a way he could split them with Raven-  
“That’s not… That’s not how it works, Charlie.” Kurt said, bluntly. “I’m your guardian, I manage your money. Hand it over.” He snapped his fingers. 

Charles smiled again. He drew a deep breath.  
“No.” He said, calmly. Kurt gaped. “No, Mr Marko, you are no longer my guardian. Not since the night you married me to-“ Kurt roared with laughter, desperately trying to ignore the implications. If he wasn’t Charles’ guardian, then the Xavier accounts were blocked to him, too. That could not be allowed to happen.  
“You don’t get married with a piece of paper, boy! That wasn’t a marriage-“  
“According to Genoshan law, it was.” Charles said. Kurt ground his teeth, and Charles felt his breathing speed up.   
“You’re a bearer.” He snapped. “Marriage isn’t for the likes of you. That’s for men and women, not-“

“Not in Genosha.” Charles said.  
“We’re not in Genosha.” Kurt said. Charles smiled, thinly.  
“Actually.” He said, as a tall blue thing covered in fur came through the door juggling a tea tray. “We are. Aren’t we, Hank?” Charles tried to hide his relief, but Kurt spotted it. Evidently this Hank was a dangerous man.  
“Oh yes.” The blue thing said. “Diplomatically, legally- the whole building is Genoshan soil, and subject to Genoshan law.” He set down the tea tray on the desk. “The biscuits aren’t very-“ Kurt told him what he could do with the biscuits. 

The blue thing blinked at him and said  
“That’s not actually physically possible, Mr Marko. Tea?” He poured a cup. Kurt snarled. As if he’d want anything touched by that thing. The blue man shrugged, and moved to sit near Charles.  
“Now see, here, Charles.” He said, catching his breath. “Either I see some money now, or you come home with me. Now.”  
“N-no.” Charles said, quiet, but stubborn. “I won’t.” Kurt surged out of his chair.  
“Are you back talking me, now?” he said, and let his hands drift meaningfully to his belt. It didn’t have the usual effect. Charles went pale, but he didn’t start babbling apologies.

The blue man sat up in his chair. Kurt walked idly around the room, halting in front of the desk, trying to loom. Charles did not stand, simply blinked up at him.  
“Charles.” Kurt said, softly. “I mean it. Money. Or you. Or- where is Raven, anyway?” he said, suddenly realising.   
“She’s in G-genosha. Legally.” Charles said, faint but firm. The blue man put a paw on his arm. “S-she asked for diplomatic refuge about a week into her visit.”  
“She’s a kid!” Kurt snapped. “She can’t-!”  
“I was there, Mr Marko.” The blue man said. “I’m her formal witness; she spoke to the Ambassador quite clearly.”

Kurt shook his head. Fine.   
“So my daughter’s a disloyal brat.” He said, still leaning over Charles. “What can you expect, a mutant freak like that?” He shrugged. “But you, Charlie… I let them have you because they could pay.”  
“That was all you cared about?” Hank said, horrified. Kurt spared him a glance. “Pretty much.” He tried leaning forwards, planting his hands on the table. “Now. Money.”  
“No.” Charles said, sharply. “Not a thing. Not from me. All those years, all those years you- hurt me- and now you come here, and you want-“

Kurt slammed his hands on the desk. Charles stopped talking.  
“Yeah, all those years. And I’ll hurt you more if you don’t-“ Charles shook his head, mutely. He was shaking. Enraged, Kurt drew back his fist to strike. Hank jumped up, and growled.  
“No.” Charles said calmly, still very pale. Amazed, Kurt found he could not move his arm. Charles was still talking.  
“No violence, Hank. Let’s not confuse the issues.” He said, sweating through his calm. Kurt tried to move his other fist and found himself frozen and unable to move.  
“Freak…” he gritted out between his teeth. Charles smiled sadly.

“Mr Marko. You are no longer my guardian. You have no legal right to manage or access my moneys, and I shall not grant you one. Your daughter has asked for sanctuary pending her application for Genoshan citizenship. Now that you understand this, I want you to leave.” He said. Kurt stared. Hank took a step backwards around the desk, towards Kurt. Kurt stepped sideways, and realised he could move again. He raised his arm, quickly. Charles flinched away, and Kurt smirked.  
“Doesn’t work all the time, does it?” He clenched his fist.   
“That’s far enough, bub.” A voice growled from the door.

Snarling, Kurt swung round to see that damn Lensherr and another man- short, and swarthy- in the doorway.  
“Hello, Ambassador. Husband.” Charles said, politely. He stood up, and Lensherr hurried to embrace him. Kurt kept his fists curled.  
“You. Marko.” The Ambassador said, chewing at his unlit cigar. “Out of the embassy.”  
“Not without-“ Kurt snapped.  
“Now.” The Ambassador sounded bored. “Or Hank here’’ll toss you out on your ear.”  
Kurt went for his knife. He’d get Charles back somehow-

He lunged at the big blue man first, as he was closest. It was only a pocket knife, but it was good steel, and a large blade, and- Hank whirled round, and grasped Kurt’s knife wielding hand in once huge paw. There was a short, confused struggle, which ended with the knife skittering away across the floor, and Kurt pinned, face down, on the table.  
“You all right, Charles?” The Ambassador said. Charles gave a breathless little laugh.  
“I- yes, Logan, I’m alright.”  
“Can I kill him _now_?” Erik snarled. Kurt began to struggle again. Hank held him, effortlessly.

“No.”  
“But he-“ Erik said. Logan talked over him.  
“Hey. Marko he talked his way into the embassy, offered insult to the husband of a Genoshan diplomatic officer, offered violence to several Genoshan citizens, and drew a blade with intent in the presence of the Ambassador.” Logan grinned, slow and heavy. “Killing him now would be doing the bastard a kindness, Lensherr, so, no, you can’t.” Kurt shouted, wordlessly, with rage. Logan grinned.  
“What shall I do with him, Ambassador?” Hank said, when Kurt stopped struggling again. 

“I can’t hold him here forever.” He sounded apologetic.  
“Ask the police to arrest him.” Charles said, quietly, from within the circle of his husbands’ arms. Logan nodded at Hank. Hank grinned, gleefully.  
“Hey.” Logan said, thoughtfully. “What about Emma?”   
“She says, press charges.” Charles said. “All the charges.” Erik smiled. Logan and Hank smirked back. Finally, Charles smiled, too.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven has news, Charles has a discussion, and there are cuddles.

Raven clattered into the Embassy, and waved at the porter as she shot by him, miles ahead of her stolid, furry tutor. Hank refused to run in public, unless it was an emergency. Ruefully he watched the porter as he saluted her fleeing back, and turned back to his book. Raven laughed, knowing Hank would head to Charles’s library, now her morning lessons were done, and headed for the set of rooms she and Charles had learned to call home. She thought they might still be at lunch, if she hurried.  
 _What is it, love?_ Charles and Aunt Emma said, as she sped down the Long Corridor to their staircase.  
 _You’ll never guess!_ she shot back teasingly.

The front door was as always, during the day, unlocked. Raven banged it shut behind her and ran for the table. Uncle Erik smiled at her. Charles stopped chewing his mouthful and swallowed.  
“What is it, Raven?” he said, eagerly. Raven beamed. This was big news.  
“Cain’s been arrested for debt!” She said happily. Aunt Emma _smirked._ Charles blinked.  
“How did you-“ She waved the newspaper at him, happily.   
“He’s in the list of debtors!” she said, with some satisfaction. “Now he’ll never get out and be able to hurt us.”

Charles smiled, faintly. He started reading through the newspaper article.  
“I suppose, once Kurt was arrested, they realised Cain wouldn’t be able to twist his arm for more money.” He said, quietly. Uncle Erik looked at Charles, worriedly.  
“Charles, are you-“ Charles bowed his head.  
“I’m fine.” He said, slightly muffled. “At least Cain knew there wasn’t any point in approaching me-“  
“Pity he didn’t.” Aunt Emma said, wiping her mouth delicately. “I could have used the exercise.” Slowly, Raven spotted Charles starting to smile again.

 

After Raven skipped out of the room, Charles felt an uneasy sensation stirring.  
“Ah.. did either of you, um, _do_ anything to Cain?” Erik smiled like a sword blade.  
“I looked into it.” He said, calmly. “I thought he could learn a little.”  
“But I said, no need.” Emma commented. “You haven’t eaten much, Charles.”  
“Feel a bit sick, that’s all.” Charles said, absently. “Why no need?”  
“You have control of the moneys your father left you-“  
“Which reminds me, you can stop paying those allowances in every month, now.” Charles said, quickly. Erik and Emma both shook their heads.

“Not while we’re based in Westchester, love.” Erik said. “Those things are legally part of our marriage contract.”  
“But-“ Charles said, anxiously. “It’s quite a lot of money-“  
“And we can afford it.” Emma said, quietly. “It’s symbolical, dear one; you know very well we could never pay your full value; it’s beyond price.” Charles pinked.  
“Be that as it may-“ he said.  
“We’re not risking you.” Erik and Emma said, simultaneously, before sharing a laugh.   
“When we get to Genosha, you can spend it all on our children.” Emma said, gently. “If it bothers you.”

 

 

 

Charles swallowed a rush of anxiety. Not fast enough.  
 _What’s this?_ Emma said, silently.  
 _What if…_ “It’s been months, and-“ Charles stammered, worried again.   
“Charles.” Erik said, as Emma explained, quickly, what was frightening their husband. “We married you, remember?” Charles nodded. “If you want to have children, we will, if you can’t, we’ll work something out. It’s you we wanted, not just your womb.”  
“I-I do know that really.” Charles said, unconvincingly. 

 

“Besides, honey love, sometimes it takes years to get pregnant” Emma said, sweetly. “Years and years. We might have to, ah, practice harder, that’s all.”Erik smirked over his empty plate at Charles. He slowly went dark red as Erik and Emma both thought hopefully of what practice might entail.  
“Um.” He said, a little peevishly.  
“And that money is yours, Charles.” Emma said, changing the subject. “YOU signed all the papers, too.”  
“Cain.” Charles said, giving up the subject of money, for the time being. 

“It’s not just debt he’s imprisoned for.” He pointed to the relevant lines in the paper.  
“No. Robbery, it says here- not in the city.” Erik agreed. Emma smiled.  
“I did convince his subconscious that he was impotent, due to a disease, when we met.” She said, gently. Charles gazed at her. He hoped she had a good reason.  
“Good start!” Erik said, and then coughed, hastily as Charles looked at him.  
“But that was more in the nature of a protection; I didn’t want him hurting anyone, and he should not have been lusting after you or your pain.”

“Was he? I, with the dampers, I could never-“ Charles felt more sick. Erik moved around the table, and wrapped Charles up in his long arms.  
“Yes. He was.” Emma said. Charles leant his head on Erik’s arm. Emma shifted to embrace the other two. Charles shut his eyes. He was very tired, suddenly, with Raven’s news, and his nerves amd... just everything, lately.  
“Come on. Stand up.” Emma said, briskly. “You need to lie down.”  
“I don’t understand why I’ve been feeling so… off, lately.” Charles confessed, as they all headed for the bedroom. “It can’t still be reactions to stopping the drugs.” He toed off his slippers. Emma lifted the covers and he crawled into the wide bed, still fully dressed.

Erik slid in beside him. Emma perched on the bed. Charles smiled at both his spouses. He really was so very lucky.  
Charles sighed and relaxed. The bed was very comfortable indeed. And warm, with Erik so near. And Emma was there, too.  
"I do love you both so much." he said, sleepily. "Even when we're not in bed."  
““You’re safe from both of them, now.” Erik rumbled in his ear. “Kurt’s not going to be let out, not until he’s over a hundred.” Not even then.” Emma said, satisfied. “Apparently, he’s started talking to himself, shouting out in the night, and strange things like that.” She smiled, wickedly.

“Oh dear.” Erik murmured, as Charles’s eyelids drooped. “I hope that doesn’t mean he’ll get transferred to a hospital.” Hospitals, even in Westchester, were sometimes more comfortable than prisons.  
“No. Logan insisted he might be faking it, and try to escape a hospital.” Emma said, softly. "The Westchestrians are still very embarrased by it all; so thye listened to him."  
“Ah.” Erik said, neutrally. There was a pause “And, um, do we know if he is?” Emma laid a hand on Charles’ forehead, and he murmured, sleepily, shifting towards her.  
“Faking it?” Emma said. She gave her husbands a small, frozen smile. “By no means.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reassurances. Relevations. Pregnant sex.
> 
> And Hank delivers, if not a baby quite yet, a bombshell.

“Oof.” Charles sat down, heavily, on the couch and rubbed his aching back. He stared at the place where his feet had used to be. Charles thought back a few months, and wondered why on earth he had _wanted_ this. He was swollen, a bloated ungainly creature that waddled everywhere and kept having to piss all the time. Ugh.  
“You know, Lump, when you get here, you are going to _owe_ me.” He said, wryly. Lump kicked, eagerly, and Charles smiled, feeling that tiny fluttering burst of energy.

“Pregnancy blues?” Erik said, strolling over.  
“Don’t talk to me now; this is all your fault.” Charles said, irritably. Erik looked smug.  
“Yes.” He said. “I suppose it is.” Emma looked up from the small garment she was sewing and laughed, shortly.  
“I think he had _some_ encouragement and support.” She said, crisply. Charles grunted.  
“Is he kicking again?” Erik said. He dropped to sit next to Charles. “May I...?” He looked hopeful.  
“Oh, go on; rub my tummy again, just this once.” Charles grumbled. “And why he? Lump could just as easily be a girl or bearer as-“

Erik lifted Charles’ long shirt and eeled his long, clever fingers over his tautly stretched stomach skin. Charles gasped, slightly. With his increased size had come an increased skin sensitivity that sometimes proved… distracting. Lump kicked again. Erik chuckled and tapped back, gently.   
“I know.” Erik said, almost crooning. “A boy or a girl or a bearer. I know.” Charles smiled down at his husband as he laid his head down on Charles’s stomach, “listening” to the little life within as it moved and throve.  
 _Do you… do you mind?_ he sent to Emma. 

She had been here first, after all, and although Charles could still feel her love as easily as he could feel Erik’s, whenever he wanted to, he could not escape the creeping doubt that by having Erik’s children, he might be somehow stealing from her. Or that he was-  
 _Mind staying the same size?_ Emma said, tartly. _Mind escaping heartburn and constipation and nausea? Of course I do._ Charles smiled, a little. Erik rubbed his face against Charles’ stomach.  
“Hello, in there.” He said, to Charles’s belly. Charles shifted slightly.

“Your stubble is scratching him.” Emma said. Erik apologised, and pulled back.  
“I do mind, a little.” Emma said, aloud. Charles stiffened. “That you can do something so much more easily than I can. With Erik, and not with me.” Charles tried not to curl in on himself. Erik put an arm around him.  
“But, Lump will be your baby too, won’t they?” Charles said, turning to Emma. “Three parents, not just, just two and, and an extra?” Emma smiled, a little sadly.  
“Oh, I know that. But I still mind a little. Just as Erik minds, just a little, that he’s not a telepath, and we are.” 

She laid aside the sewing and moved over to the couch, and sat on the other side of Charles, so he was tucked between his spouses.  
“I never-” Erik said. Emma patted his hand.  
“Not in words, dear husband.”   
“But that’s why there’s three of us, though, isn’t?” Charles said, suddenly. “Because we all… fit better, in a triune than in a pair?” He ended on a note of uncertainty.  
“Yes.” Erik said. “Of course.”  
“And because we all love each other.” Emma said, almost at the same time. 

“And because I’m irresistibly attractive.” Erik said, after a pause. Emma swatted at him. Charles laughed.  
“No, seriously, you are doing me a great service; holding back the great hordes of-“ This time Charles clapped a hand over Erik’s mouth. Emma caught his eye as he turned to her, and they shared a smile. Then Erik licked Charles’ hands, and he felt… tingly. He whipped his hand away from Erik’s mouth. He was pregnant already, surely he shouldn’t be feeling like this?  
“Speaking of irresistible.” Emma said, leaning forwards on the couch to breathe into Charles’s ear. 

“Erik’s not the only irresistible man in this marriage.” she said. Charles shivered.  
“Indeed.” Erik said, leaning towards Charles. Charles’ mouth opened, almost of its own accord. Erik kissed him.  
“I ah- the Lump?” Charles said, finally. He could feel Emma smirking, even as she began to kiss his neck. Charles felt himself begin to melt against her.   
“If we’re all careful.” Erik said, hands busy at Charles’ trousers. “And very, very gentle-“  
“Oooooooh.” Charles said, as a warm and skilled hand wrapped around his cock. “G-gentle is g-g-goood.”

Emma’s hands crept up, under his shirt, to toy with his nipples. Charles jerked and gasped in startled reaction. It turned out the extra sensitivity he had noticed before was not limited to the skin on Charles’s stomach. When either of them touched him, anywhere, with intent, he felt so much more than before. Charles thought his eyes were going to roll out of his head; and if it had not been for Emma, supporting him from behind, Charles was fairly certain he would have slid off the couch completely. Erik was extremely gentle, but he was relentless, slowly pulling Charles’ peak out of him without a pause, like some inexorable magnet.

“W-why do you like my chest so much anyway?” Charles said, randomly, after the storm had burst over and through him, and they were all wrapped in each other’s arms, waiting for his heatbeat to subside.  
“It’s the freckles.” Emma assured him, gravely. “And the fact that it is _your_ chest.”   
Erik chuckled, and stretched to kiss her over Charles’s shoulder, careful of the Lump. Charles smiled, and shifted slightly. Now that the sparks were vanishing from his eyes, and he could think again, the Lump was kicking amiably again.

Emma had slid her arm around Charles and was reaching for Erik’s trousers, when someone knocked on the door. Erik cursed, quietly and viciously.   
_It’s Hank._ Emma said, straightening herself, and fussing with her dress. Erik cursed some more. Charles wanted to giggle.   
_He feels quite… urgent_ Charles added. _Yes, yes_ Erik said, silently, irritably.  
“Come in, Hank.” He said, aloud, refastening his trousers.

Hank hurried in, and coughed, nervously, fur bushing out in embarrassment.  
“I. Um. Sorry if I, ah, interrupted, not that-“  
“Hank.” Erik said, faintly dangerously. “Please come to the point.” Hank shuffled the papers he had in one hand. Emma cocked her head and smiled encouragingly.  
“It’s, ah, Charles, you know those measurements we were talking about?”  
“What, the ones for Lump?” Charles said, and laid his hands worriedly over his bulging waistline.

“Yes- oh, don’t worry, it’s not bad news. Well, not-“  
“Hank.” Emma and Erik said together, as one. Charles went white. Hank gulped, and began to speak more quickly.  
“I’ve been looking over the graphs from my research; and if my readings are right, you’re having twins, Charles.” Charles’s mouth dropped open.  
“Twins?” Erik said, blankly.   
“Yes, well, the traces of hormonal marker are very distinctive.” Hank said. “And it would explain-“  
“Twins!” Erik said, delightedly. Charles continued to stare. Emma reached over and pushed his mouth closed, gently.  
“T-Twins?” Charles said, faintly.  
“That is good news, Hank. Thank you.” Emma said calmly. “I’m sure my husbands will thank you once they’ve processed it properly.”  
"Twins!" Erik said again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triune: Epilogues. (Six years later)

I – Kurt

Kurt lay on his prison bunk, sweating in terror. It had been months since his ghosts had last appeared to him; but he had lapsed, sliding into forbidding thinking again He had thought of Charlie, and had- only for a few minutes- hated him again. He had noticed one of jailers was a bearing man, and had sneered at him, inside his head. Kurt blinked, and shivered, staring wide eyed at the light. He dared not sleep. Surely they would be back soon. Would it be the weeping woman with the tears that burnt, or the man with sharp blades that cut and cut and cut and did not kill? Asleep, he couldn’t control his voice, and if he woke his cellmates by talking, again, they’d get angry. Again.

Something moved in the corner of his eye.

II- Sharon

Muzzily, Sharon reached for another bottle. She liked this little room, which was all she had been able to afford, once Charles took the money away. She didn’t mind. He’d taken Kurt and Cain- dreadful, hateful boys that they were- away too. And Raven, all noise and demanding- she was gone too. Now there was just her, and the room. A nice room, a kind room. And the bottles. The lovely, lovely bottles- they never left her or demanded anything from her she couldn’t give. Her neighbours had been complaining, lately, about rent and smells and so on- Sharon paid them no mind. She was still a high born lady. They were just peasants, small city folk. And there was always another drink. She upended the bottle over her glass.

It was empty.

III- Cain

Cain stumbled on, into the cave. Something seemed to be drawing him into it’s depths. He shivered, as a chill breath of air feathered down his neck. The army uniform was no good at keeping warmth in. He cursed his stepbrother, and his dumb shit of a father, and his sot of a stepmother again. If Dad had been just been thinking, when he signed Charlie over, they wouldn’t have lost the money that went with him. If Sharon had just kept hold of Raven, they’d of been able to negotiate with Charlie for the money. And he, Cain, would not have had to change his name and join the army to get out of debtors’ prison. Damn all of them.

In the depth of the cave, something red glowed.

 

IV

Charles, Erik, Emma, and family.

Charles stepped into the family room from his study, and smiled at the sight that met his eyes.  
“Hello, wife, husband.” He said, happily. Erik stood to greet him. Emma, bent over a book with the twins, sent a mental hello.  
 _Business concluded, satisfactorially, love?_ she said. Charles nodded, and rubbed his back, still stiff from the hours bent over his desk. Erik frowned slightly. Charles was looking tired again. Rapidly, he resovled to keep his husband in bed longer- _for sleep!_ he snapped, silently, at Emma’s raised eyebrows. She smiled.  
 _Signed, sealed, and ready to be delivered._ Charles said, happily. _That’s another profit to add to the pile._

At that moment, Pietro saw Charles, and ran to him, babbling excitedly.  
“Dadadada!” He put up his hands to be picked up. Charles smiled, and bent to his son. He was about to pick him up, and hug him tightly, when his other father shouted.  
“Stop right there, young man!” Charles froze, bent over. Pietro swivelled to face his Pa, still holding his hands up. Erik swung the sturdy five year old into his own arms, and kissed his husband, nudging him upright as he did.  
“Erik, what…” Charles started.  
“Doctor McCoy has warned you about stressing yourself, Charles.” Erik said, placidly. “No heavy lifting.”

Charles pouted.  
“I hardly think he meant me not to lift my children.” He said. “Emma, back me up, here.” Emma glanced over from where she and Wanda sat by the fire, leafing through a chemistry book, and said, placidly.  
“No. No lifting while pregnant, Xavier.” Wanda giggled. “Look, Mama!” She said, excitedly redirecting Emma’s gaze to the page again. “Can we do this one, can we?”  
“Not in the house, sweet.” Emma said. “No explosions in the house.” Wanda’s pout looked a lot like Charles’.

Charles sighed, and sagged onto the couch. Erik dropped down next to him. Pitro reached over and pulled on Charles’s sleeve.  
“Dadadad, can we have racing again, can we?” Charles blinked. “When the new baby gets here, I need to be faster!”  
“Well, you’re already quite fast.” Charles said, gently, brushing his son’s hair out of his eyes.  
“I want to be a good big brother and help lots!” Pietro said, urgently, bouncing on Erik’s lap. “That means I gotta be faster!” Charles looked at Erik.

“Good boy, Pietro.” Erik said. “But you don’t need to be fast to look after your family.”  
“Look at Aunt Raven.” Charles said. “She’s a good big sister to you two, isn’t she?” Pietro sighed.  
“She doesn’t have to be fast. She’s blue. And she’s gone to school.” He drooped, sadly. He liked Raven, and was finding her absence a little hard.  
“Only during the week!” Charles said, half playfully. He was missing his sister too, although she was learning so much at school, and enjoying herself, so he could hardly begrudge Raven her new freedom.  
“Yes, but the best race times are Tuesdays.” Pietro said, glumly. “The park’s too full on the weekend.” He paused for a moment.

“ _You_ could run with me, daddy!” he said, to Erik, ingenuously. Erik repressed his wince. Charles grinned. Emma laughed.  
“How about we look at you racing Raven’s pony?” She said. “She was worried about Beast getting proper exercise when she was away.”  
“That thing is not a pony.” Erik muttered to Charles. “It’s a monster disguised as a horse.”  
“You only say that because he bit you, love.” Charles said. “He knows better now.”  
“B-but- I don’t _want_ to sit on the horse.” Pietro said. “ I want to _run._!”  
“I can sit on the horse!” Wanda said, gleeful. “I won’t fall off, I _promise._

“That’s settled, then.” Charles said. “Wanda rides, Pietro runs, we watch.”  
“Mmm. I’m quite fond of watching.” Erik said, and hugged Charles. “Good idea.” Charles squeaked, slightly, with the force of the hug, and rested his head on Erik’s shoulder.  
“Watching?” Charles said, and smiled. _You usually enjoy being ah, an active participant, too._ Erik went faintly pink. Emma laughed, silently. Pietro wriggled out of their laps, and scurried over to look at Wanda’s book. 

Charles settled back into the cradle of his husbands arms, and hummed, in contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, the end of Triune. That was fun, I do hope you all enjoyed. Sorry for the amount of fluff in the last epilogue.
> 
> Now, to the other WIPS, and no, self you are not to start a new story until you're done with Getting Better all the Time and Night Life. Do not write that creepy porn. No, to the other slave AU. WIPS Only!


End file.
